


The Codeine Scene

by Xyriath



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Biracial characters, Brief talk of depression and suicide, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug-Induced Sex, Ed-level cursing, Forced Prostitution, HIV+ Characters, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape/Non-con Elements, STDs, Sex Work, Smoking, Unsafe Sex, Violence, implied polyamory, whorephobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 111,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding himself entangled with King Bradley's gang of criminals and no way out, Roy Mustang must struggle between balancing his morals and the need to keep himself alive. He walks a thin rope, and a chance meeting of a young man, addicted to drugs and forced into prostitution, complicates matters further. By all rights, he should consider Edward to be collateral damage, an unfortunate bystander in his already difficult situation, but this is one person Roy soon finds he can't leave behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One of two fics written for the 2016 FMA Big Bang!
> 
> A massive thank you to Admiral, my Roy and my best friend in the fucking world. 90% of the time if Roy said something clever, she probably wrote it!

The lights beat down on Roy, colored and flashing in time to the rhythmic beat that vibrated through his jaw and skull.  The gyrating, sweaty bodies on the floor below him flickered in and out of sight with the pattern of light and darkness, some also in time with the beat, many without a single care in the world.

At least, about dancing in time to the music.  Roy knew very well how many of them had bigger problems to worry about—as evidenced by the woman slinking over to him, chin lifted slightly, head cocked at a flirtations angle.  His eyes flicked over the rest of her: thin, almost a little skeletal, and slightly twitchy as she sized him up.  She hadn’t bought new clothes in quite some time, brown hair lank and not terribly well kept.

Customer, then.  Not prostitute.  At least, not right now.  If she were in here, she would know better.

“I, uh…”  Her flirtatious demeanor cracked slightly, and she hesitated.

With a smirk, ignoring the twinge of pity in his stomach, he reached into a pocket, pulling out a small baggie, the white crystals transforming into a multitude of different colors under the club’s lights.

“I got your poison, sweetheart,” he purred, smirking, and though he couldn’t quite see if there was a blush on her face, he knew it was probably there.  “Fifty bucks.”

She scrambled for the bills, pressing them into his hands eagerly.  Roy made sure to count them before handing over the bag, and she vanished back into the crowd without another word.  Tucking the cash into the front pocket—tight jeans; they tended to stymie pickpockets—he turned back to lean on the shiny chrome railing of the glass balcony, returning to his observation of the crowd.

He watched as dancers peeled off and left—alone, with each other; with drugs, with condoms.  He picked out familiar faces: members of rival gangs escorted in by armed guards, unarmed themselves.  Regular customers.  Bradley-approved pimps and prostitutes.  All of them weaving in and out of the mass of humanity, individual gears in an operation well-oiled to perfection.

A flicker of movement in the mirrored surface of the railing alerted him to a visitor coming up behind him; he didn’t turn, however, until he heard the greeting.

“Shit, Roy; how did you manage to become the dealer for half of Chicago?  I swear, a dozen of us to choose from, and they all hone in on you.”

“They know my wares are superior,” Roy said loftily, lifting a shoulder in a shrug.

“Bullshit.  It’s just your pretty face.”

Roy smirked and batted his eyelashes at Riley.  “Oh?  You think I’m pretty?”

Riley Gress, fellow drug dealer and muscled lump of a man, scowled.  “You damn well know you are.”

 _That_ was true.  Luckily, Roy’s rapid rise to success as one of Bradley’s top dealers had earned him enough respect that everyone, including Riley, had stopped trying to sleep with him.  Fortunate, given the reputation that many of the men seemed to have with prostitutes.

“How much you make tonight?” Riley asked, nudging Roy with an elbow.  “Enough to take a cut and have some fun?”

“Yes.   _If_ I were inclined to do so, which I’m not.”

Riley groaned.  “Man, Roy, you’re so _uptight._  The hookers are hot here, and you _never_ jump at the chance, even with our discounts.  That’s some crazy shit.”

Roy stilled at the words, keeping his face impassive as he assessed Riley’s demeanor.  But he could spot no suspicion or wariness on his face, only exasperation and a bit of incredulity.  Relaxing slightly, he smirked again.

“If this is an attempt to get me out of the picture for a while so you can beat my sales tonight, it’s a very sloppy attempt.”

Riley offered him a chagrined smile.  “C’mon, give the rest of us a chance.”

“Maybe if _you_ stopped dallying with prostitutes.”

He glared at Roy.  “Not like they leave me much choice.  They’ve all been avoiding me lately.”

Privately, Roy suspected that might have to do with Riley’s tendencies to leave bruises, and the girl he had sent to the hospital a month ago.  Outwardly, he just shrugged.  “Offer them more money.”

“ _Now_ who’s trying to sabotage—shit, gotta go!”

As Riley paced away, Roy spotted a group of teens entering the club, well-dressed and starstruck.  Roy grimaced: of course Riley would be the type to deal to rich kids.

He leaned back, sighing.  He needed a drink.

“Well don’t you look lonely.”

Roy had met his share of sex workers in the eighteen months since he had begun working for Bradley.  He had generally avoided sleeping with them, not out of dislike or disapproval, but as there was usually no way to really tell who was there consensually and who wasn’t—growing up in one of the better brothels around had given him a foundation for that mindset, and his foster mother, the famous Madame Christmas, had done the rest—but he admired from afar.  They certainly knew how to make themselves look good.

This one, however, caught his attention like none of the others ever had.

Golden bangs framed a sharply-featured face, fine-boned and symmetrical.  The rest of his hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, which fell to his mid-back, showing off an elegant neck and collarbones that just begged to be nipped at.  Though the colored lights made it difficult to see skin tone, his seemed to be darker, olive or golden, maybe Middle Eastern.  His black shirt was mesh, and though his height was nothing to speak of, his tight leather pants undoubtedly concealed one hell of an ass.

The young man’s gorgeousness stole his breath for a moment.  Despite the cockiness with which he approached, something subtly flickering through his face, the slightest hint of vulnerability, almost reminiscent of an open wound, set Roy’s protective instincts kicking into overdrive.  He was stunning.

And, judging from his blown-out pupils in those eyes of molten gold, he was as high as a fucking kite.

“Not at all,” Roy deadpanned back.  “I’m having plenty of fun, can’t you tell?”

The young man cocked his head, mouth playing at a smile.  “Could make it even more fun, if you wanted.”  Roy didn’t spot the hand that slid towards him, fingers tracing up his abdomen, until it pressed against him.  “Christ.”

Roy tried to offer a smile back, keep the suspicion out of it.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m great.”  He laughed a little.  “Damn, you’re gorgeous.  Almost wanna do you for free.”

“What’s your poison?”

The young man chuckled—could he be any more than eighteen?—leaning in a little more.  “Attractive men who are older than I am.”

Roy kept up his easy smile, doing his best not to show the distaste roiling inside of him.  Not for the kid, but for… this.  “You’re on something.  What is it?”

“Mm, a little of this, little of that.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Why, want some?  I guess I could share.”  He lifted a little baggie, familiar, between two fingers.  “I get it for free.  I’m allowed, but paying customers only.”

Roy shot it a suspicious look: crystal meth?  Yes.  Good quality?  Absolutely not.  He sold enough to tell the bad from the good, and this looked like it had been cut with rat poison.  He had never been one to sample much of his merchandise, either.

“Sorry, kid, not allowed to do other people’s stuff.”

“Suit yourself.”  He tucked away the drugs, and Roy broke the tiniest bit, seeing this gorgeous kid in so deep.  Roy found himself on the receiving end of the pout.  “But I hope that doesn’t apply to people, too.”  The kid stepped in, running a hand up Roy’s chest.  “Suck your dick for seventy-five.  Sixty, ‘cause you’re so hot.”

Roy took the wrist in his hand, pulling it away from his chest, trying not to make his swallowing too visible, arousal and anxiety battling within his chest.  “Little steep.”  While he would have happily paid that price for a willing prostitute, he needed _something_ to get him away.

“Worth it, I promise,” the kid purred, curling his fingers loosely.  “Swallow every time.”  He tilted his head and grinned up at Roy.  “Hundred twenty to fuck.  Twice that gets you no condom.  I’m totally clean.”

Roy inhaled sharply at the words, gut twisting unpleasantly.  His upbringing striking again.

“Not interested, kid.”  Roy at least still tried to smile down at him, try to add a little more… happiness to this kid’s life.  “You’re gorgeous, but not my type.”

The kid tilted his head the other way, still grinning.  “What’s that?  Promise I’ll be even more gorgeous writhing underneath you.”  He leaned in again with his shoulders, still tilting his head up so he could look at Roy.

“If you stop wasting your time on me, I’m sure you could get more customers.”

The grin shifted into something that was obviously supposed to be mournful, but he was too high to truly look sad.  “Yeah, but how often do I see someone _this_ gorgeous around here?  Give you a discount on the fucking, too, if you don’t tell.”

Roy ignored the following wink.  He could spot the slightly vacant, blissed out expression from the drugs.  Angelic as the kid might look, it wasn’t really him.

“Kid, I’m not interested,” he said firmly, stepping back, trying to convince his head to turn away.  “But thank you for the compliment.”

The kid sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.  “Fiiine.”  With a toss of his ponytail, he turned and sauntered away.

Roy had been right about the ass.

He managed to follow the prostitute with his eyes until the kid caught the attention of one of Bradley’s personal guards.

“Hey, Roy!”

He turned to see Riley strutting in his direction, a smirk on his face.  “Guess who just made three hundred bucks.”

Roy shrugged, keeping his face neutral, hiding his disgust with the expression of a competitor trying not to appear envious.

“A kid’s allowance,” Roy sighs with a shrug, earning himself a glare.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a real killjoy?”

On an impulse, Roy turned again to search for the prostitute from earlier.  He, as well as the guard, had vanished.

“Every day.”

—

Three more customers came and went, buying from Roy each time, before he caught sight of the young man from earlier.

He walked with the slightest of limps now, and Roy caught a tiny grimace of pain on that perfect face before it settled into that dazzling grin once again.  The guard had returned to his post.

The object of Roy’s observations glanced around, and before Roy could look away, he caught Roy’s eye.  Roy swallowed; he knew the guard, knew that the past encounter couldn’t have been pleasant.

Against his better judgement, he lifted his hand, waving him over, leaning back in his seat.

The kid trotted over like a called dog, and it left Roy a little sick.

“You change your mind, beautiful?  You said no, but you keep watchin’ me,” he purred, cocking a hip as he leaned on the railing.  “Loosen up a little.  I’ll take care of you.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Roy heard Riley breathe, and he turned to see Riley ogling the kid like breakfast.  A streak of displeasure surged through Roy.  “Doubt he’ll be interested, but I sure as hell am.”

The kid turned his grin on Riley, made to step forward—

Roy’s arm snaked out to grab his wrist.  “Wait a minute, Angel.”

Angel—because Roy was going to have to start calling him _something_ —paused.  “Yeah?”

Roy gestured for him to sit.  The kid sat, smirking, perched sideways on Roy’s lap.  As he did, Roy caught a glimpse of the back of the kid’s right shoulder, exposed by the racerback.  The kid had a red tattoo: a winged ouroboros, encircling six triangles arranged to make two, one interposed over the other.  Bradley’s mark.

“Tell me your prices again.”  Roy took a sip of his drink.

“Hand job’s fifty, blow job’s seventy-five, fuck me for a hundred twenty-five, double that for no condom.  Those are discount rates; you’re one of the boss’s guys, right?”

Roy sighed, both at the speed of the offer and being known as one of “Bradley’s guys,” wrapping his arms around him and ignoring Riley’s glare.  “What do you suggest?  As a salesman.”

“Mmm.”  The kid leaned in, smirking.  “I’m a _real_ good lay.  Full package, honestly.”  Their foreheads were almost touching, and from there, Roy could see how gigantic his pupils were.

“Tell me about it?” Roy asked, the only thing he could think to say as his heart slowly fell to pieces.

“About what, fucking you?”  He squirmed against Roy’s lap.  “God, I’d practically pay you, if I were allowed.”  Roy swallowed, the dissonance of the words and the compliment leaving his head spinning.  Arousing as this all was…   _If I were allowed._   It left a nasty taste in his mouth.

“I want you to fuck me every way you can imagine and then some,” the kid continued roughly.  “Wanna feel you pound into me as you grab my hair and shove my head into the pillow.  Wanna wrap my legs around your waist and beg you to go deeper as you fuck me hard against the wall.”  He ground against Roy’s lap, eliciting a gasp.  “Wanna ride your dick like it’s the fuckin’ rodeo.”

Terrible as the last bit was, Roy couldn’t fault a high kid for some bad sex lines.  He slid his hand up the kid’s leg, at least hoping to get some indication of…  “What do you want?”

At that, the kid leaned in, whispering fiercely, “All of it.”

“You think I’m flush for that?”

When the kid laughed, he was almost close enough to kiss Roy.  “A girl can dream.”

With a soft sigh, Roy slid his hand up gently to the kid’s chest.  “What’s two hundred get me?”

“Mmm, fuck without a condom, I could do that.  Or a fuck and a blow job.”

Roy sighed, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He could hear Riley’s frustrated groan from beside him.  “Make up your mind, Roy; I’m giving him a spin if you’re not.”

 _That_ left Roy gritting his teeth, and he remembered Riley’s words from earlier.  People noticed, when you didn’t quite fit in.

Maes would call him a sap.

“I’m good for a condom, kid.”

Angel _beamed_ , leaning in further.  “Abso fucking lutely.  You wanna head to the bathroom, or a private room, or…”

Roy grimaced at the thought.  “I was thinking something a little more… extended.  There’s a motel nearby.”

Angel tilted his head slightly, a spark of canniness in his eye—but only for the briefest of moments.  “You gotta pay.”

“It would be my honor.”  At that, Roy gave in and leaned in, kissing him.

The kid moaned into the kiss, returning it for a few moments before breaking it and giggling.  “ _That_ was free.  I’ll go wherever you like, sweetheart.”

Roy snorted.  “You know that’s not very safe.”

“Kissing you?  Yeah, god, I almost got lost.”  Despite the “danger,” he leaned in to kiss Roy again.

“Going places with strangers,” he murmured against Angel’s mouth, trying to shove away the twinge that such a blatant disregard for safety left him with.

“We’ve made out.  You’re not a stranger.”

“Great strategy.”

The kid giggled, pressing his forehead against Roy’s.  “You’re sweet.”

“And you’re hot.  Now, let’s get out of here before someone outbids me?”

Riley groaned as the kid hopped off Roy’s lap, and Roy turned.

“Consider this your opportunity to try to catch up,” he offered diplomatically.  “You won’t manage it without a handicap.”

He just smirked as Riley flipped him off, heading for the club’s exit.

—

Roy had expected the short car trip over to be quick, but he _hadn’t_ expected how much quicker he’d want to make it.

His passenger, curse him, had decided it would be a brilliant idea to reach over and squeeze Roy’s thigh.  At Roy’s snapped, “I am _driving!_ ”, however, he decided to move the hand to his own crotch.  Though Roy was now fortunate enough not to have to personally deal with the touch of a _very_ attractive prostitute, he now had to listen to the soft, delicious sounds that prostitute was now making next to him as he touched himself.

Roy was only human, really.

He practically swerved into the nearest parking spot to the motel door, jumped out of the big black SUV, and once his companion had done the same, he punched “lock” on the keyfob.  A quick exchange of cash at the lobby, and Roy was the proud owner of his very own rusty key engraved with “520.”

“Damn,” the kid laughed, breathless.  “You don’t waste any time.  I won’t charge until we start, y’know.”

Roy just shook his head.  “Would rather spend as little time out here as possible.”

“I can understand that.”

Roy paused at the plastic “520” on the door in front of them, double checked the key, the unlocked it and stepped inside.  He held out an arm, keeping Angel back for a moment as he sized up the room, then peered around behind the door before letting him in.

He turned to close it, slowly, mind racing now that they were _here_ , about to… well.  The kid was high.  Having sex with him, even after paying, it was _wrong._

He could give the kid an out, offer to pay for the room and the night and let him stay.  But then he might just go right back to the club to pick up more customers, and Riley might think something was odd.  Alternatively, the kid might mention it to someone, with the same result.

He gripped the doorknob, then turned.

“Angel—“

Before he could finish, a pair of hands caught his face, tugging him down.  Roy barely had time for a breath before lips pressed up against his, a soft moan sounding against his mouth.

He gasped, a sound that the kid’s own mouth muffled, and closed his eyes, kissing back.  Arms slid from his face around his shoulders, holding on, and Roy returned the favor: it was worrying, how thin the waist was when Roy wrapped his arms around it.  He tugged the kid in roughly, groaning as he deepened the kiss, then yanked away, growling in his ear, “You’re gonna have to show me how you’re worth two hundred, kid.”

He had been told that his voice _did_ things, and he believed it.  Angel moaned loudly, tilting his head back, then started scrambling at his shirt.  Roy got him out of it, tugging the mesh off, then tugged his own off as well.

He reached out his hand to push the kid gently back towards the bed.  “You’re not too high for this, are you?”

The kid shook his head quickly, then whispered, “Christ,” reaching out as if he were going to touch the tattoos.  Roy had plenty: the black outline of a dragon on his left arm, its jaws opening at his knuckles, its tail reaching almost to his elbow.  On his right arm, reddish lotuses traced up his arm and, transitioning into delicate pink cherry blossoms at his bicep and spreading over his shoulder.  Grey inked flying birds, six of them, across his chest.  A fiery watercolor of a tree on his back, stretching across his shoulderblades.  The beginnings of a phoenix detailed on his left ribs, the black transitioning into vibrant red of a tail that disappeared too quickly into his waistband.

The kid ran his fingers quickly down Roy’s arms, then pulled back, dropping to his knees, working on Roy’s pants.  Roy swallowed, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“I like to be touched,” he encouraged gently.  “Feel free next time.”

“Next time,” the kid said breathlessly, as if thrilled with the idea.  “Christ.”

He yanked Roy’s pants down, revealing the rest of the tattoos: the Tengwar script stretching from one hipbone to another, a symbol Roy was fond of from an archaic book of medieval alchemy (something about the flame symbol, the geometric triangles, and salamander had drawn him in), and the rest of the phoenix’s plumage, stretching down the side of his hip and thigh.

Roy groaned when he leaned in and licked them.  “You like tattoos?”

“I like you.”  The kid’s voice was still breathless, and Roy winced slightly.

“You don’t gotta lie.  Money’s on the table.”

“Not lyin’.”  That mouth, that sinful mouth, went back to licks and kisses, doting on the tattoos.

And that wasn’t all the mouth did, lips mouthing inward, towards Roy’s cock, hard despite himself—

By the time he came, Roy was panting and sweating, realizing that he had buried his fingers in Angel’s hair and pulled some of it free from the ponytail.

He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to smile down, petting where he had pulled.  “You were right.  It was worth it.”

When the kid hummed and leaned into the contact, closing his eyes like a pleased cat, Roy tried not to flinch.  “And you ain’t even fucked me yet.”

“How long you been at this, kid?”

“Couple years.  Pays the bills.”  At the laugh, like it was some kind of joke, Roy did wince.

“How old are you?”

That earned him a batting of eyelashes, a coy smile from below.  “How old do you want me to be?”

“How about your actual age, Angel.”

He huffed softly, though Roy caught the shiver at the word “angel.”  At least something good had happened out of tonight.  “Twenty.”

Roy offered a hand, and the kid accepted.  He kissed Roy again, and a sudden jump and a pair of legs wrapping around Roy’s waist thoroughly distracted him.

He carried Angel back towards the bed—Christ, the kid was worryingly light—until he collapsed down onto it, pinning the kid down.

“You sure you want a condom?” Angel panted, squirming, arching up to show to Roy that his leather pants concealed _nothing._

“I’ll use one,” Roy murmured back, but that didn’t stop the squirming.

Finally, the kid managed to work something free of his impossibly tight pockets: condoms, travel-sized lubricant…

And a familiar-looking baggie.

Roy gritted his teeth as he watched the kid take the straw, turn away, and inhale the meth through his nose.  After a few moments, he relaxed, turning back.

“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching out to grip at Roy’s face and kiss it again.  “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” Roy breathed against his lips, eyes closed, heart breaking.

It was a unique combination of self-hatred and arousal as he kissed down that gorgeous neck, nipped on those collarbones, earning a delightful squeal.  He hated this, the way the body underneath his writhed as he tugged down the leather pants, the way ribs showed starkly under stretched skin, how his hand could encircle an alarming amount of that thin waist.  And he hated how much he loved the feeling of skin against skin, the sounds of gasping pleasure.

He had to do this; the consequences otherwise could be too dire to consider.  But he was at least going to make it good.

Roy went carefully, attentive to every sigh, every breath, every giggle, working him open slowly before fucking him and holding him close when he did.  Angel, for his part, seemed to love it, but Roy knew that it was the drugs making him horny and desperate, laughing at each touch, kissing back with enthusiasm.

Roy shoved his self-loathing away, losing himself, if only for a few hours, in the embrace of a  stunning, beautiful, golden creature he didn’t deserve.

Not when he looked at Roy the way he did, enraptured, as he came.  Not when he wrapped around him, humming happily, afterwards.

The moment he was able, he staggered out of the bed, into the dingy bathroom, knelt in front of the toilet, and vomited.

He took a few minutes, sitting on the edge of the tub, covering his face with his hands, taking deep breaths.  He had to go back out there, had to go face the young man he had just…

He hated his job sometimes.

But he went, grabbed one of the suspiciously stained towels—he had dealt with worse, honestly—and wrapped it around his waist, staggering over to the room’s single chair and flopping down in it.

Angel watched him for a few moments before uncurling out of his spot on the bed.  “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Roy exhaled, shaking slightly.  At that, the kid slipped out of the bed and went to sit on Roy’s lap.  He must have been too high to notice how uncomfortable it made Roy: Roy had to look away at the sight of droplets of come smearing the kid’s stomach.

“You got plans after this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

He caught the glint in the kid’s eyes.  “If you got any more cash?  Yeah.”

“Unfortunately, you broke me.”  Roy’s smirk was shaky, but he kept it up all the same.

The kid huffed softly, leaning up to nuzzle his head underneath Roy’s chin.  “Fine.  Then guess it’s back to the party to me.”

The thought of seeing him go back to the club, preparing to be pawed at by the likes of Riley, left his stomach churning.  “Does it have to be?”

“’Less you wanna claim my time.”  He kissed Roy’s jaw.

Roy laughed forlornly, pulling away slightly.  “I don’t have that kinda cash to throw around.”   _Not on me._

That earned him a mournful sigh in response.  “Pity.”  The kid wriggled out of his lap, going to dig through his pockets again and pulling out that goddamned bag.  “You _sure_ you don’t wanna hit?”

“That stuff is poison,” Roy muttered.

“You ever had it?”  The coy tilt of the kid’s head twinged at Roy’s heart.

Roy shook his head, sighing.  “Not that.  It’s… it’s literally poison.  It’s been cut down.  That’s not pure meth.”

The kid huffed, shoving it back into his pocket and shoving the pants back on.  “Well, what else am I supposed to take?  It’s free, and it works.”

Roy watched him dress, struggling into too-tight clothes, then sighed.  He didn’t want to encourage his drug habit, really, but it was better than… snorting bleach.  Roy leaned in to kiss his temple.  “I’ll be at the club again next week, Angel.  Find me then.”

Angel’s eyes gleamed, and he leaned in to kiss Roy again.  “I’ll be there.”

Roy smirked again, still shaky, wondering if he could… keep him continuously occupied for a while.  “How much would a baggie of good stuff get me?”

Angel froze at that, looking desperate for just a moment before he managed to smooth it over, settling back with a wary look in his eye.  “I don’t do that,” he said finally, cautiously.

A rock seemed to sink in Roy’s stomach.  “Why not?”

His eyes flicked to the side, and he seemed to suddenly be looking anywhere but at Roy as he sniffed, then rubbed at his nose.  “Don’t pay the bills, does it?”

Roy sighed.  “Then a tip at least.  Don’t take any extra drugs before you get to me, okay?”

The kid’s demeanor seemed to shift, doing a complete turnaround.  “What, you wanna get started with me?”

“I’d like to.  I’ll take a few extra runs and see if I can’t get you a little longer next time.”  Keep him away from the people who were obviously taking advantage of a young man who Roy was beginning to suspect didn’t have much choice in the matter of his position.  If he had been doing this on his own, he would have taken the drugs, but if someone else were involved…

But Angel just laughed, leaning in and kissing him again.  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Roy kissed him back, but when he looked back into those eyes, he could barely see the tiniest hint of a ring of gold around the kid’s huge pupils.

—

Though Roy dropped him off at Bradley’s club, he didn’t follow Angel inside, just watched to make sure that he made it in safely.

Afterwards, he drove away as quickly as possible, weaving through roads and neighborhoods until he found an empty lot, unfamiliar, just the way he needed.

After turning off his car and sitting for several minutes, listening for any noise whatsoever and determining that it was safe, he unbuckled his seatbelt, twisted over to the passenger side floorboard, and grabbed a corner of the carpet, tugging it up and revealing a compartment underneath.

The phone’s battery was still good when he turned it on; it wouldn’t need charging for another week, at least.  Swiping to the contacts list, he hit the only name there and then “dial.”

_One, two, three rings…_

“Do you know what time it is?” came the cautious voice.  “I could have been raking the lawn!”

“I decided I hadn’t heard you gush about your family in forever, Maes, and I wanted to hear it again.”

Maes spoke again, this time, caution gone from his voice.  “You know, asshole, picking that as your “I’m alone and safe to talk” cover phrase was kind of a dick move.”

“Well, it’s because I’d never say it under normal circumstances.”

“Exactly.”  The sharp tone took on one of concern.  “What is it, Roy?  Are you doing all right?”

Roy paused at the question, mind circling through the events of earlier.  He didn’t realize how long the silence must have continued, but it must have been quite some time, because a couple more, “Roy?  Hey, Roy!”s brought his attention back to Maes.

“I’m just tired,” he finally said, sighing.  “I’m… you know the stuff I have to do for this job.  To pass as one of them.”  He leaned back in the driver’s seat, knowing that he was risking everything by reaching out to Maes, but right now, he needed to speak with someone who wasn’t a monster or a victim.  “I—I’ve—I’m _becoming_ one of them—“

“No, you’re not.”  Maes’s voice had taken on a tone of reassurance.  “I know, I know it’s rough seeing what Bradley’s doing.  But what _you’re_ doing, yes, it might seem bad now, but in the long run, you’re way better in there than some run of the mill drug dealer.  They’d be doing just as much harm as you—more, probably—and they’d want to keep on doing it, too.  Not like you.”

“Am I doing any good, Maes?” Roy asked tiredly.  “Is anything I’ve done in the past two years—“

“Of course it has!” he burst out.  “Some of the intel you’ve gotten us?  We were able to make busts on _three_ human trafficking rings in the past six months.  All Bradley’s.  The Chopper is active again, too; we think he might be one of Bradley’s people, or at least runs with that crowd.  We’re not on that case, but what you’ve dug up could help the FBI.  You saved dozens of lives, and that’s only the _beginning_ of what we can do when we finalize the case against Bradley.  The FBI agrees; they’ve come in since you’ve been gone and they say your undercover work is some of the best they’ve ever seen.  And to have feds say that about local PD?  They had to be _really_ impressed to swallow their pride like that.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” Roy muttered, but he was smiling slightly.  He _did_ wish that he could have seen them say that; his own run-ins with the FBI as a detective tended to be less than pleasant.

“Well, yeah, but it’s also true.”  A noisy sigh, and he could just _see_ Maes rubbing his forehead.  “Look, Roy, I promise, it’s going to be okay.  It’s rough, I know, but just hang in there for a little longer.  You’ll be out soon.”

“Right.”  Roy let out a slow, steady exhale, the knot in his stomach loosening.  Though he couldn’t tell Maes what he had been doing—too much of a risk—Maes had a pretty good idea of the things Roy did to keep cover.  “It’s just been a rough couple of months.”

“I get that.”  Maes kept his voice soft.  “And… you’re almost out of your prescription, right?  I’ll get that filled.  We’ll meet up soon.”

The thought of seeing Maes again after _months_ of isolation left his heart just a bit lighter.

“Thank you,” he replied, voice just as soft.  “But I need to go now.  Don’t want to spend too much time like this.”

“I understand.  And Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe.”

The phone clicked, and Roy powered it back off and stashed in its hiding spot before finally driving away, trying not to let Maes’s words eat at him.

The thing was, it wasn’t his _own_ safety that worried him.

  


* * *

  


[ ](http://xyriath.tumblr.com/post/149956868402/so-the-wonderful-and-talented-jujubee2522-did)

_Art by[Jujubee2522](http://jujubee2522.tumblr.com/)_


	2. Chapter 2

Hearing Bradley hold his planning meetings was a unique torture that Roy would be far too pleased never to endure again.  Though his advancement had put him in a unique position to gather all sorts of incriminating evidence that would probably have the DA trying to kiss him when this finally went to court, he did have to spend nearly forty-five minutes discussing and _contributing_ to strategies that allowed dealers to more effectively distribute around school areas without being caught by police, as well as gateway methods that would allow them to draw in younger, more impressionable customers in the areas where parents distributed large allowances and didn’t ask too many questions.

All things that he had worked to _prevent_ as a police officer; he had long since learned that these men were always at least two steps ahead and maybe more.  That would all change, he swore it.

When he finally staggered free of the meeting, he headed to his usual spot, sipping slowly at some truly awful gin.  Still, it was a better taste than what was left in his mouth after _that_ shit.  A few members of Bradley’s gang lounged near him, sipping at their own swill.  Roy needed to get his mind off of this.  Off of everything.  Actively do some good, for once.  And it _had_ been a week.

Fifteen minutes after settling in, he spotted his angel.

He wore his golden hair down tonight, and with a sharp inhalation of breath, Roy mentally kicked himself for not taking it down the other night.  It fell in shimmering curtains, curling slightly, begging to have fingers run through it.

Roy knew from the blatant ogling that he wasn’t the only person to be having those thoughts.  It set his teeth on edge, the thought of someone else intercepting the kid…

But he sauntered straight up to Roy, the shake in his hips that of a practiced stripper, and Roy wondered what else he got up to.  Though his pupils were again dilated, he seemed a bit more aware of his surroundings tonight.

Roy smiled softly at the gleam in his eye, then gestured to his own lap.  “Hey, Angel.”

He could hear his gang mates snickering off to the side as the kid sat, wrapping his arms around Roy’s neck.  “Mm.  I like that.  You can keep it.”  He leaned in to kiss Roy’s cheek.  “How have you been?”

Aware of his gang mates watching them, knowing what he had to do to keep his cover, he reached out to slide a hand down the kid’s ass.  “You seem more sober tonight.”

The indignant squeak was clearly faked, as evidenced by the ensuing giggle.  “You asked me to be, love.”

Taking a deep breath, Roy pulled out a baggie, some of his best stuff.  “I got you a present.  For later.”

The kid’s entire demeanor shifted, the flirtiness dropping as he reached for the drugs, a knee digging uncomfortably into Roy’s ribs.  The kid didn’t seem to notice.

Roy pulled it out of his reach, trying his best to hide the grimace.  His gang mates would see it as taking advantage to get himself a discount, not keeping his attention away from the worse individuals in the place.  “I said later, didn’t I?”

The kid drew back for a moment, looking as if he had been slapped, expression then shifting to one of chagrin.  “Sorry, love.”  He reached up to run a hand down Roy’s chest.  “And in the meantime?”

Roy flicked his eyes over to his gang mates, who were watching intently, clearly entertained.  “In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about you riding me.”

The kid smirked.  “Is that what you want?”  Bracing himself on Roy’s shoulders, he swung a leg over Roy’s waist, straddling him, then grinding down.  Roy gasped, hands darting out to grab his waist.

“I don’t want… not in public, Angel.”

The kid leaned in to kiss Roy’s jaw.  “Why not?  No one here cares.”

The sick sensation in his stomach left him reeling, so much so that he barely noticed the jeering from his gang mates, calling out that if he didn’t do the whore in public, the whore’d do himself on Roy’s dick.

“You can’t want this, kid,” he choked out, hoping that the club’s darkness hid the distraught expression on his face.

Angel just ground up against him with a laugh.  “Why the hell not?”  He reached out, took Roy’s face, and kissed him.  “God, you’re hotter than I remembered.”

Once again ignoring the loud, rude comments about where that mouth must have been, he pulled away.  “I’d like a more private show.”

“Whatever you want,” he sighed, leaning in to start kissing down Roy’s jaw and neck, the chuckle vibrating down through it.  “Hope you brought a little more tonight.”

“Three and a half, plus your tip.”

“For the show?  Fuckin’ done.”

“For whatever you want, Angel.”

The kid hopped off his lap, offered his hand.  Ignoring the calls of, “Get it!” and “Fuck him silly, Mazda!”, as well as the creeping shame in his chest, Roy accepted it and followed.

—

They had room 520 again.  Angel was all over him the moment the door closed.

Roy had a shockingly hard time trying to keep up with him: for every kiss he managed to return, the kid got in two more.  Roy quickly found himself shoved back onto the bed, hands scrambling for his shirt, a mouth kissing up his neck and jaw at the same time.  Roy gently tugged him back, divesting his shirt before the kid worked himself into a frenzy.

With a content sigh, he ran his hands down Roy’s abdomen, tracing the tattoos.  Roy was slightly pleased that the kid had remembered that he liked contact, that he seemed more into it than last week, but then again, a nasty little voice inside him reminded him that there _was_ free meth on the line.

“What’s three fifty get me?” he murmured against that mouth.

“Whatever you want,” came the hoarse reply, and Roy watched as the kid tugged off his shirt, then Roy’s pants, leaning in to kiss Roy’s abdomen.

He couldn’t help it: he groaned.  “Do your worst, Angel.”

The name earned him a gasp, and the kid started in with his mouth.  He took much longer than last week,: kissing, licking, nipping; ribs, stomach, abdomen, hips _thighs_.  Roy groaned again at the attention, tangling his fingers in the kid’s hair.

“I’ve got a challenge for you, Angel.”

“Mmm?” he hummed against Roy’s hipbone.  “I love challenges.”

“When you ride me,” Roy breathed, “I want you to get yourself off, without touching yourself.  Can you do that?”

“Fuck,” the kid gasped, nodding.  “Hell yeah I can.”

Roy finished undressing the kid, then tugged him into his lap.  “Come here, Angel.”  After a lingering kiss, he slicked up his fingers.  “Would you really have ridden me out there?”

“Yeah,” he replied, breathless, between kisses.  “If you’d wanted.”

“No.”  Despite himself, Roy dug his fingers into those thighs.  “I want to be the only one to see you, when I’m with you.”

The kid shivered at that, moaned a little, and ran a hand down Roy’s chest, grinding down.  Roy groaned, head tilting back on the pillow, eyes wide.

“You like that?” the kid panted, rolling his hips.  “You wanna see me?”  He leaned back, putting himself on display.

“I always want to see you, Angel.”

And he did, as he touched, as he held, as he tugged down for deep kisses.  As he slid his fingers, slid _himself_ inside, he gasped and groaned, held tightly, and watched in awe.

“Fuck, you feel so good—“

“Tell me how _you’re_ feeling,” Roy interrupted, breath ragged as his eyes met the kid’s, arms shaking as he tipped close to oblivion, the heat and tension of the body around and on top of him dangerously addictive.

“Fuckin’ awesome.”  He laughed raggedly, then moaned.

“Keep it up, Angel.  I like hearing you.”

“Oh yeah?  You want me to tell you how fuckin’ hot you are?  How thick and hard?  Fuck, you make me feel so great.”

“No, Angel.”  Roy pressed his lips, then his teeth, to that neck.  “Don’t talk about me.  Tell me how you are.”  Roy didn’t want this to be about himself, didn’t want a practiced stream of words.

“What… whaddya mean?”

Roy sighed.  “Never mind.  Just keep talking, Angel.  I love your voice.”

“God, fuck, I love your dick.”  A finger traced down Roy’s cheek.  “And your face…”  Down his chest and stomach.  “And your body.  Shit.”

“Tell me what you want.”  Roy tucked a strand of hair behind the kid’s ear.

“This.”  Hoarsely.  “God, I want this.”

“What about it?  Angel, please.”

“Wanna be here with you.  With you inside me.  With you callin’ me angel.”

“You like it?  You look like one.  You’re stunning.”

“That make you a devil?”

Roy snorted at the coy words; again, though, he couldn’t really blame a high kid for bad sex talk.  “I think you’re the only divine one.”

Angel made a small moaning noise, leaning back into Roy’s hands as they slid up his back.

“Why do you like Angel so much?” Roy murmured softly.

The kid’s eyes cracked open, and for just a moment, Roy caught a glimpse of intensity that bordered on desperation.  “Because I can believe you,” he whispered.

Roy tugged him down, kissing him fiercely.  “You are an angel.  You can’t be real, and here you are.”  He pressed their foreheads together, shaking his head at the disbelieving laugh.  “You should be modeling, not fucking strangers for drugs.”

He pulled back, pouting prettily.  “I’m not fucking you for drugs!”

“You shouldn’t be fucking me at all, Angel,” Roy murmured, kissing his lips gently.

“But I wanna,” came the soft reply, along with a nuzzle into Roy’s check.

“Good.”  Roy just rolled his hips again.  He wished he could believe it.

—

“So,” the kid purred, head pillowed on Roy’s chest, both of them panting and sated.  “How about that tip?”

Roy sighed, closing his eyes.  He didn’t want to support this, but he also didn’t want the kid going into withdrawal.  And he _had_ promised.  “You want it now?”

At the eager nod and kiss—god, the kid kissed Roy like he was drowning and Roy was a breath of air—Roy lifted him off and went over to rummage through his jacket.  “This stuff is stronger.  You’ll need less of it, all right?”  He went back over to kiss the kid again.  “You make this last, and I’ll keep getting you clean stuff, okay?”

The kid reached for it desperately, then hesitated.  “I can’t… give you freebies.  Not really.  Not unless I make a lot already in a night.”  But he stared at the bag hungrily.

“I don’t expect freebies, Angel.  I just want to make sure you’re… good.”

Roy had to cut the amount in half when the kid first tried to snort it, and despite the initial pout, when the drugs hit…

“Fuck,” Angel breathed.  “This is fantastic.  You’re fantastic.”

“I told you.  It’s more pure than that cheap shit your pimp gives you.”

“Jesus.”  He leaned in to kiss Roy again, breathless and starstruck.  “Gotta ask him to start dealing with you.”

“He’d still buy you the cheap shit.  Just keep coming to me, okay?  They’re less bad without the poison in them.”

“And what about you?  You’re damn addicting poison.”

Roy’s laugh was forced, but the kid didn’t notice, dragging him back to bed.

They went again—a leg hooked over a shoulder—and again—a pair of hands on the wall—and again—Roy wanted to test a theory, and when he realized how much his angel loved to be penetrated, he leaned in.

“Next time,” he panted, “next time, I’ll work you up so you come the moment I push in.”

“Gonna be a next time?”

“Yes, Angel.  Gonna make sure no one else gets to you.”

The laugh had a bitter edge to it.  “Whatever you want, love.”

“Angel, while you’re with me, you’re safe.”

Roy could tell from the deflecting kisses that the kid didn’t believe him, but his orgasm chose that moment to rush through him, and the kid’s did the same.

They cuddled afterwards, and after hesitating, Roy asked, “What’s your rate for a full night?  Just for future reference.”

“Six hundred,” he yawned.  “Standard condom rates apply, but…”  He kissed Roy on the mouth.  “Think I can pass on those for you.”

“I’d be using a condom.”  He petted the kid’s hair.  “Better to be safe.”

He laughed.  “I’m totally safe.  You can do me like that right now, if you want.”

Roy privately suspected that the both of them were far too worn out for that—and he didn’t trust the kid’s medical care one bit.  “What if I’m not?”

“I didn’t notice anything.  I’m sure you’re fine.”

Roy winced.  “I’d rather not take the risk.”

“Mmm, ‘kay.”  He curled into Roy, eyes drifting closed, and Roy wondered if he wasn’t about to sleep.

After some time, perhaps thirty minutes, the small figure in his arms startled.  “Whazzat?”

Roy smiled softly, earning one in return.  “Hey, Angel.”

“Hey, guy.”  He laughed softly, eyes drooping again.  “Dunno if I can… I mean, you wanna go again?”

“No, Angel.”  Roy leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Wan’ me t’go?”

“No, if you want to stay, you can.”

“Paid for?”

“Yes.”

“Mmmh.”  He wrapped around Roy, already half asleep again.  Roy held him close, kept him safe.  He had become a police officer to help the people in front of him, had earned his way to being a detective for the same reason, but that attitude didn’t serve him down here.  Realistically, he had been telling himself for a year and a half that he couldn’t save everyone.  That he couldn’t go through and pull every single person out of their horrible situations.  But something about this kid latched into Roy’s chest and wouldn’t let go.  Even if it was only for now, he wanted to do as much as he could.

—

Roy hadn’t meant to fall asleep.  He hadn’t meant to doze off with the kid in his arms, hadn’t meant to hold him so tightly—

But a gasp, jerk, and sudden twisting beside him told him that he had _probably_ slept too late.

He pushed himself up, glancing around, and spotted Angel sitting up beside him—with a very unangelically wary expression on his face.

When he caught Roy’s eye, however, he looked away quickly, otherwise staying very, very still.

“Hey,” Roy murmured, keeping his voice gentle.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

The kid laughed, or tried, but it was soft and forced.  Without looking at Roy, he slid out of the bed and began searching for his clothes.

Roy followed, doing the same, an unpleasant feeling sinking into his gut.  “Hey, Angel, I _am_ sorry.”

The kid just shrugged.  “What for?  You paid for it.”  He slid his jeans up over his hips, underwearless, and in the light of day Roy could see how filthy they were.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”  Roy handed over the mesh shirt to the kid, who hunched his shoulders, almost flinching at the movement, before realizing what it was and accepting it.

“Nothing.  Thanks.”  He sniffed, wrinkling his nose before pulling the shirt on.

“Did I hurt you?” Roy asked nervously as the kid grabbed a sock, paused, then glared around for the other, which was nowhere in sight.

“No.”

Roy glanced around, finally spotting the sock in a crevasse of the comforter.  He tugged on his pants first.  “Do you… need a ride?”

The kid stiffened, shaking his head as he hopped on one foot to get the sock on.  He still didn’t look at Roy.  “I can walk.”

Roy had seen the tattoo, knew that he was one of Bradley’s, so Roy had his suspicions about a few of the options that had to be the kid’s pimp.  None of the most likely candidates had a stable reasonably close.  “Let me give you a ride.”  When the kid ignored him, he cleared his throat.  “You’re standing on my shirt.”

The kid practically leaped backwards off of it, and Roy handed over the sock before picking up the shirt.

“No, I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“It won’t be any trouble.  May I, please?  It will be a long walk.”

The kid hunched his shoulders as he yanked on a shoe.  “If you really wanna that badly.”

“I would like to, yes.”  He tugged on the shirt, wondering how in the world this morning could be so drastically different from last night.  “Um.  My name is Roy.  Roy Mazda.”

The kid yanked on his other shoe.  “Cool.”  He glanced around.  “Where’s the…?”

Roy leaned over to the other side of the bed and lifted the baggie.  “Do you remember what I told you about this?”

“Yeah.”  The kid stared at the bag, reaching out for it.

“You promise to come to me when you’re out?”

“Yes, okay?”

Roy handed it over.  “I never got your name.”

The kid smiled bitterly, first at Roy, then at the drugs before shoving them into his pocket.  “You can go with Angel.”

“Sure,” Roy said cautiously, following the kid to the door.

He had no idea what to do with this reticent young man who seemed to want nothing to do with him.  Not that he blamed him, of course, not in the slightest.  It was just… jarring.

When they got in the car, Roy turned the radio down, but kept his eyes on the road.  “Would you like breakfast, or coffee?  We can go through a drive through if you need to get back.”  He knew this wasn’t a one night stand, but the thought of sending him back with nothing, especially after seeing those ribs, didn’t sit well with him.

That caught the kid’s attention.  “Food?”

Roy had a feeling that the eager tone had been an accident, but he smiled slightly nonetheless.  “Where would you like to go?”

“McDonald’s,” he sighed, a bit of a dreamy look in his eye.  Roy tried not to smile.

“Deal.”

…Roy very soon regretted that deal.  When the cashier asked for their order, the kid unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over, braced his hands on Roy’s lap, and called out everything he wanted.

“Anything else?” the cashier finally asked, and Roy finished with a faint, “Coffee, please.”

Five bags of food and an _impressive_ fast food bill later, Roy pulled into one of the parking spaces away from the entrance.  Glancing over at the way the kid dug in, he sipped his own coffee, then turned to watch out the window.

After a few moments, the ravenous noises beside him subsided somewhat, and Roy turned to check on him.

Right as he did, he caught sight of golden hair whip away as the kid went back to staring straight ahead, _very_ determinedly not at Roy.

Roy smiled, just slightly, at that.  Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes.  “Feeling any better?”

“Great, thanks.”  The reply was wary and a little sarcastic.

“I meant after breakfast.”

“Yeah, great.”

Roy cracked an eye open slightly; he could see the kid watching him again, then look away quickly, keeping at his food.

“I’m amazed you can put away so much.”

“I’ve always eaten a lot.”  But Roy heard a rustling, and when he opened his eyes and glanced over, the kid had set the food down, looking cautious.

“It’s not a bad thing.  I know some people who do.  Function of their metabolism.”

The kid shrugged.  “I know why it happens.”

“Smart.”  Roy smiled fondly at him as he began to eat again.

The kid let out a skeptical bark of laughter at that one.  “Pshyeah.”

“Hey, you know what a metabolism is.”  Roy shrugged; he had faced down people a foot taller than him and twice as big around, and yet something in the kid’s face left him scrambling to appease.

“So does everyone else who went to like fourth grade.”

“Well, still.”  Roy shrugged again, ready to drop it.

The kid made a noncommittal noise.  “I’ve been called a lotta things in my day, but smart is not one of them.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Depends on where you’re standing.”

“What do you mean?”  Roy didn’t miss the flicker of disgust across the kid’s face; he wanted to tell him that he was worth more than he thought, wasn’t just the sum of how he made money in the evenings, but he could tell that it wouldn’t do much.

“Well, bein’ smart doesn’t do anyone much good in my job, does it?”

“Street smarts matter a great deal.”  Roy’s mother would have agreed heartily, and her workers were some of the smartest, most capable people Roy had ever met.  Just because they served a different clientele didn’t mean that the jobs were completely dissimilar.

“Metabolism ain’t got nothing to do with street smarts.”

“No, but it is a form of intelligence.”

The kid snorted.  “Who are you, some fuckin’ college professor?”

“Of course not.  Simple drug dealer.”  He wished he could say something else, something to convince the kid that Roy knew what he was talking about, but he couldn’t think of a stupider reason to blow his cover.

“ _Zahremar_ ,” the kid muttered, putting his feet up on the dashboard and drawing his knees in.  

Roy turned over and blinked at him.  “Sorry?”

The kid said a few more words in the language that definitely sounded like curse words, then snapped, “Never mind.”

“No, no.”  Roy straightened, honing in on this bit of information.  At this point he would take scraps.  “What was that?”

“A giant pile of fuck you.”

“No, I had that last night.  It’s decidedly different, and I’d like to reconcile that with what I do know.”

The kid rolled his eyes.  “You wanna know so bad, it’s Farsi for shut the fuck up.  Which you should do.”  Still, he hitched up his shoulder as he glared.

“You speak Farsi?”

He blinked in surprise at Roy’s interested tone, in the total lack of anger at the disrespect, Roy assumed.  “Yeah,” he continued carefully.  “My family’s from Iran.  Grew up speaking it.”  He watched Roy carefully.  “You’d know about that, probably.”

Roy did indeed; growing up biracial could come up with a unique set of complications.  He and Maes had bonded over the fact growing up—despite the fact that Japan and Korea were entirely different countries, bullies didn't tend to realize that. “So you’re bilingual, too.  Amazing,” Roy breathed, shaking his head.  “So…”  He paused, thinking of the best way to phrase the question; the kid wouldn’t even tell Roy his name.  A question about his life’s story would do no good.  “If this isn’t what you want to do, then what do you?  Everyone’s got a passion, right?”

The kid snorted.  “What, you not happy with the passion your cash got you?”

Roy exhaled through his nose.  “That’s not what I meant.”  Way to go with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, Mustang.

“Well, it was a dumb question, so I gave you a better answer.”

“And what if that’s not the answer I want?”

The kid shot Roy a nasty glare, and Roy winced.  That had come out far more threatening and uncooperative than he had intended; any progress he made had probably jumped back a step or three.

“Would you like me to take you back?”

“You’d probably better.”

“Is that what you want?”

Angel’s glare turned even nastier.  “Yes, okay?  If you’re gonna play games, I can walk.”

Roy lifted his hands placatingly.  “I’m not playing games.”  He started the car.  “Can you direct me?”

When they arrived, Roy stared at the building.  He knew of this place, though he had never been.  Everyone did.  One of Bradley’s most lucrative stables, a tight ship run by a tyrant of a pimp.  Just the sight of it left Roy with a sensation of confinement in his stomach.  He couldn’t imagine how the kid must feel knowing that he had to step into it.  “You wanted to walk _here?_ ”

The kid finished tying his hair back in a low ponytail, rolling his shoulders.  “I’ve walked from that hotel before.”

“You’re… more determined than I am.”  At the kid’s annoyed look, Roy just shrugged.  “And here is where we part ways, I assume.”

“Yeah.”  He opened the door, paused, then cleared his throat.  “Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome.  Remember what I said.”

“I’ll see you again.  Promise.”

Though the smile on the kid’s face was wry, it was the first—the only—Roy had ever gotten from him sober, and he treasured it.  He smiled back.

With a nod, the kid slammed the door closed, turning and jogging to the stable, ponytail swinging from side to side.

Roy watched him until he vanished inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Roy was going to _kill_ someone.

He had managed to get off lucky so far, not having to take a life to keep his cover, but _this_ , this he might make an exception for.

Angel, high as Roy had ever seen him, gyrated on the dance floor, head tilted back, eyes closed, looking blissful.  To be fair, Roy didn’t mind the kid being happy.  What he _did_ mind was the hand down some random guy’s pants.

He knew that he had no right to be jealous.  Yes, they had met a few more times over the past couple of weeks; regardless, he had no claim on the kid’s time.  But it still _sucked._

The man finally came, gripping the kid’s hair, and then slipped him more money, whispering something in his ear.  Roy watched with slight disgust as the kid pulled his hand out, beamed, looking him in the eye and licking off the come.

Roy watched them kiss for a few minutes, glaring, but he wasn’t going to make an idiot of himself.  When the two parted ways, however, Roy made a beeline for the stairs.

Unfortunately, by the time he’d reached the bottom, he had lost the kid, and despite his efforts, couldn’t seem to find him—

A flash of gold caught his eye, and he turned.  There he was.  And there was another man, pressed against him, fucking the kid against the wall.

Roy knew he should turn away, should spare at least a little dignity, but his eyes seemed locked on the sight as a mixture of mortification and fury churned in his gut.

The kid’s head turned slightly, and he caught Roy’s gaze.

His eyes widened, and Roy knew he needed to go, but he couldn’t seem to look away, not even as the kid’s expression of false bliss faded to one of dull vacancy, almost helplessness, watching Roy back.  The helplessness twisted his jealousy to desperation, yanking in his focus and attention, stirring that part of Roy that still thought he could make a difference now.

With difficulty, Roy stepped backwards, turning to order drinks.  When he turned back, he set them both on the table, right where the kid could see.

He finally closed his eyes, much to Roy’s relief, and a few moments later, after pulling up his pants—the customer, Roy had noticed, hadn’t been using a condom—staggered over to Roy, purring, “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey, Angel.”  He smiled fondly up at him, willing him to know that Roy wasn’t mad.  Not at _him._  “I do have a question for you.”

“Hmm?”  He settled in Roy’s lap, leaning in to kiss on his neck, golden hair glittering in the flashing lights.

Roy took a deep breath, struggling to think of how to word the request.  “How much trouble would you get in if you rebuffed men?”

The kid chuckled at that, leaning in to kiss him, but Roy turned away, hope twisting in his chest, and the memory of the first man fresh in his mind.  “Seriously.  If I paid you to wait for me, would you get in trouble?”

The kid pouted when Roy pulled away, but sighed.  “Not if you paid me.”

“And your… clients?”

“I’d tell ‘em I’m already hired.”  The kid laughed.  “Like a taxi!”

Roy took a deep breath, trying to calm the faint sick sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Drink up,” he murmured, pushing the second glass over, catching sight of his gang mates out of the corner of his eye.  Just what he needed.  “I’ve been wanting to dance.”

The kid tossed it back, and Roy downed another of his shots.  He needed it.

“You wanna dance with me?”

Roy smiled crookedly, the alcohol leaving him with a rush and the sight of the kid doing the rest.  “Of course.”

Roy tried, he really did, to enjoy the sensation of the kid against him, the twisting hips, the rhythmic steps, but his mind was only half there.

—

Roy laid on the bed in room 520, listening to the shower run and letting his head spin.

He had read and reread the pamphlet in front of him three times, absorbing none of it, by the time the water shut off, and as he looked up, the kid stepped out, hair down and a towel slung low around his waist.

He couldn’t help the smile that curved up his lips, despite the way the visibility of those ribs destroyed him just a little more.  “Now I wish I had joined you.”

That earned him a chuckle.  “You shoulda.”  The kid walked over, craning his neck.  “Whaddya reading?”

Roy just lifted the Cloud Gate pamphlet.  “It was on the table.”

The kid snorted.  “Fuckin’ tourist trap.”

“Agreed.”  Roy watched him for a few more moments, wondering if his heart had stopped aching, even just a little, since the instant he met the kid.  He had his suspicions otherwise.

With a sigh, he opened his arms.  “Come here?  I’m still a little too drunk to be fun for a while.”

The kid sighed as well, trotting up and straddling his lap.  “But drunk is fun.  I know it is for me.”

Roy tried not to grit his teeth.  He bet it was.  Still, he wrapped his arms loosely around the kid’s waist.  “I find it… difficult to get hard, when I’m drunk.”  And it was true: even with—shit, it couldn’t have been more than ninety pounds—of gorgeous blond on his lap, his dick was still completely useless.

Still, the kid ground against him anyway.  “Need some help with that?”  For just a moment, Roy thought he might have seen a flash of panic, but…

“You’re certainly welcome to try,” Roy said cautiously, then shrugged.  “I doubt you’ll have much luck.  I’ll be better in a bit.”

The kid leaned forward, purring.  “Just hope I can be enough for someone like you.”  He ran his hand down Roy’s chest, then pressed it against his cock through his pants.

_Oh._

Moving slowly, Roy reached down to take the kid’s wrist, tugging it away.  “Listen, Angel.  It’ll probably be twenty or thirty minutes.  Just give it some time, okay?  I’m not angry, and it’s not your fault that I’m not hard.”

The fear and uncertainty in the kid’s eyes left Roy unable to breathe for just a moment.  “But you’re paying me.”

“And right now I’m paying you to sit here and let me not feel alone.”  He reached up to stroke the kid’s back, keeping it gentle, praying that it reassured enough.  “We’ll get to sex in a few moments, but right now, this is what I need.”

Though Angel took a deep breath and nodded, he stayed very, very still.  “You… okay?”

“Very okay.”  Why was it, whenever Roy thought it couldn’t get worse, this kid managed to dig his way into an as yet undiscovered vulnerability somewhere beneath the surface?  He laid down, gesturing for the kid to lay down on top, and smiled softly when he obliged, albeit slowly.

When he wrapped his arms around Roy without prompting, Roy was the one who had to stay still for a moment, not even caring that he was getting damp.

The way the kid finally relaxed on top of him, blissing out once again, left Roy breathing just a little easier.

Eventually, however, Roy did have to twist away to get a water bottle, and the kid wriggled away while he did so.  “What would you like tonight?” he asked, smiling over at him and offering the bottle once he was done.

The kid sipped at it, raising an eyebrow and smirking.  “How about a tip?”

Roy hid his wince.  “It’s in my pocket.  Do you want it now?”

“Yeah, been runnin’ low.”  The kid’s hand slid out, up Roy’s thigh, to his pocket.  Roy obliged him, watching him take the hit.

“Sure you don’t want any?”

Roy nodded.  “I’m good.  Bad form to use your own product.”

“How else would you know it was any good?”  The kid sniffed again, trying to catch any stray crystals.  “If I lived that way, I couldn’t even jerk off.”

 _That_ left Roy surprised, his eyebrows raising.  “You jerk off?”

The kid shrugged.  “How much you got tonight?”

“Probably two or three rounds.”

He laughed.  “I meant cash.”

“Five.”

“Then yeah.”  The kid smirked.  “I’ll jerk off for you.”

Roy tried to suppress a sigh.  And here he had thought he might get an answer to at least one question about him.  “I meant, do you jerk off on your own?”

The kid watched him, considering, and Roy’s suspicions jingled when he grinned and leaned in to kiss Roy.  “Since I met you I have.”

This time Roy _did_ sigh, not believing a word of it.  “Well, I’ll watch, if you’d like.  And I’d also like to watch you prep yourself.”

“Sure.”  The kid kissed him breathlessly, then leaned back on the bed, tugging the towel off.  “Wanna see how I do it when I’m alone?”

“Of course.”  Despite his initial reluctance, he could feel his crotch deciding that yes, the two of them were _done_ being drunk for the evening.

The kid reached for his bare cock, stroking, and Roy’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips, eyes focused on the sight.  “You’re gorgeous, Angel.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes gleaming, but the way his eyes locked on Roy’s, they both knew he wasn’t talking about himself.

—

When Roy drove the kid back to the club, someone detached from the shadows before he could even head inside.

Roy watched the two of them warily, eyes narrowed, especially at the reluctant expression on the kid’s face.  But the other man flashed some money, to which the kid nodded, accepted, and headed back towards a nearby alley.

Although Roy waited for twenty minutes, the kid didn’t come out.  He finally managed to tear himself away from the watch, much as he hated to.  He was going to be late.

It took him fifteen minutes to drive to the predetermined parking lot, and when he arrived, the sight of the familiar black Prius set his heart at ease for the first time in days.

He stepped out, jogged over, and slid into the passenger seat.

Maes’s scruffy face grinned over at him, and Roy allowed himself a wry smile back.  “Who would have ever thought I’d be happy to see your ugly face?”

“I could shove you out of this car right now, Roy.  See if I don’t.  I’m missing Scandal for this.”

“Then learn how to use the goddamn DVR for once in your life.”

Maes just sighed dramatically, leaned back, and folded his arms over his chest.  The two of them sat in silence for a while, Roy letting his euphoria at seeing his best friend fade.

“I need out, Maes,” he finally said, voice quiet.

He heard a sharp inhalation of breath beside him, and he closed his eyes, briefly, defense against the disappointment he knew he would see.  “What—Roy?  You’re doing so well.  We’re so close.  You can’t.”

Roy opened his eyes again, turning to see the concern written in every line on Maes’s face.  “There’s… shit, Maes.  There’s a lot of things that are going on.”

“Then talk to me, Roy.  It’s what I’m here for.”

Roy warred against his better judgement for a few moments—he would sound crazy, he knew he would—but he finally won out.  “There’s this kid.  He… fuck, Maes.  And it’s worse ‘cause I know he’s not the only one.”

“A kid—what do you mean, Roy?”

“He’s… fuck.  His pimp got him addicted to drugs and he doesn’t want to be there.  And he doesn’t want any of this, I can tell, but he can’t leave, and I can’t help him.”

“Roy—Roy.”  Maes reached over to take his arms.  “I’m sorry.  I know that you want to help him.  But this is bigger than one kid, all right?  You can help him by taking down this corrupt system that lets monsters like his pimp walk free while he suffers for it.”

“But if I can’t even help him, who can I help, Maes?” he asked sharply, thoughts flicking back to the fear in the kid’s eyes when Roy hadn’t been able to get hard.

“You _can_ help him.  And you can help everyone, Roy.”

“I can’t.”  Roy took a shuddering breath, tugging his hands away and dragging them down his face.  “I need out, Maes.  I can’t do this.  He’s high all the time and I have to hire him to keep my cover and—I can’t rape him anymore, Maes.”

“Rape—what are you talking about, Roy?”  The concern on Maes’s face had deepened, and Roy, perversely, wished that he were looking at him with disgust instead.

“He’s high as a fucking kite.  There’s no way he can consent to what he’s doing.  But if I don’t hire prostitutes I’m looked at more closely, especially with the success I’ve been having.”  He shook his head.  “I just… when he’s with me, he’s not with the violent ones, and they pick him because he’s fucking gorgeous.  Model worthy, and he’s a drugged out whore stuck here against his will, and—“

“Then you’re helping, Roy.  I know damned well that you’re taking care of that boy, and like you said, you’re keeping him away from the people that will hurt him.  It’s like the drugs you’re selling.  Someone’s going to do it.  Might as well be someone who will do it safely, without anything dangerous, and whose end goal is to get rid of the operation for good.  And do you know what’s going to happen to him if you pull out?”

Roy shook his head, going quiet for a moment, the whole nasty truth tugging at his throat, demanding to be let free.  “I’m giving him drugs.  What they give him is poison.  I don’t think they care if it kills him.  So does that make me any better?”

He heard Maes’s tone grow gentle, and he hated it.  “Roy, listen.  If you pull out, he’s going to end up ODed in an alley, or strangled in a dumpster, and then end up across my desk in a homicide file like a thousand others that will dead end into no leads because thanks to the monster running this city, it’s so corrupt we’re lucky to be able to give out speeding tickets.  This is the best way you can help him.”

“There’s just… so much that I can’t do.  I don’t know why I’m so attached to this one kid, Maes, but… I can’t keep raping him and I can’t keep doing this assignment without doing it.”

“You could hire someone else.”

Roy inhaled sharply, the thought leaving him sick.  “And then just leave him to deal with sadists?”

“And you think he wouldn’t have to deal with the sadists if you leave?”

“I—if I’m here I have to think about it,” Roy finally grumbled, knowing it sounded petulant.

“So you just leave and let him deal with it, and then me, when I get to meet him on the table at the morgue.”

“You can’t hold me accountable for him, Maes!” Roy snarled, anger flaring up.  “I can’t get him out anyway, no matter what I do.  Blaming it on me is just cruel!”

“So you just want to stick your head in the sand?” Maes asked relentlessly.

“No!  But… I can’t watch him kill himself.”

“So you’ll turn away and let him do it behind your back.”

Roy seethed for a moment, taking a deep breath and glaring straight ahead.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew why Maes was telling him this, that he needed to hear it, but he still hated it.  But… it made sense.

With a sigh, he slumped, glare turning into a look of helplessness.  “I don’t want him to die.  And there’s nothing I can do to save him.  I hate feeling useless.”  The words reminded me of another reason he had called this meeting, and he fished a prescription bottle out of his pocket, setting it in the cup holder.  “I need a refill, by the way.”

Maes, already prepared, set the new bottle in the cup holder closest to Roy, along with a giant snickers bar, and Roy pocketed both.  “Look, we take down Bradley, you can get this kid to rehab.  His pimp won’t be untouchable.”

“You know as well as I do how much of a gamble that is.”  The thought of it all left him bleak.  “If we can get enough intel and a conviction before he dies.  I don’t have enough evidence.  Not yet.”  He laughed, harsh and bitter.  “I don’t even know his name.”

“Then ask him, Roy.  Get to know him.  Maybe you can persuade him to stop.”

“Sure, I’ll just talk him out of a drug addiction.”

“Or get him to rehab.”

A surge of anger rocked through him.  “How the hell would he afford rehab?  He’s a junkie that doesn’t take drugs instead of cash.  It’s obvious his pimp has him strapped over a barrel.”

“Then help me take down his pimp, and people like him.”  Maes leaned forward, expression intent, no hint of the goofy, lighthearted father and husband he sometimes projected in his face.  “This is what you’re working for.  Yeah, it sucks to have to see it, but this is his best hope.”

“I know.  I know.”  Roy sighed, shaking his head.  “I need to stay.  This is my operation, and if I bail out of something I practically killed myself to get funding for, that I _swore_ would get the results the department needed, they won’t even trust me with a lost kitten.  But… every time I see him looking so fucked up I just want to sit down and cry.  He’s barely even twenty, and he acts like the kind that got into it young.  And he hates the drugs, but his pimp makes him take him.  You know Kimblee.  I dropped the kid off at his place.”

He could see Maes wince out of the corner of his eye.  “It’s Kimblee that’s got him?  Yeah, he’s a nasty piece of work.  He’s right up there on our list, to take down as soon as possible.”

“I just hope it’s soon enough to save them.”  Roy leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly, exhaustion sinking into his bones.  “Give me just a minute.  I don’t quite feel up to getting back out there yet.”

“Take your time, Roy.”  Maes’s voice had changed, back to gentleness, and he reached out to wrap an arm around Roy’s shoulders.

“I should have been an actor,” Roy murmured, leaning into him.  “Less life threatening.”  He laughed again, just as bitter as before.  “Probably meet the same amount of crack addicts, though.”

“I think they do cocaine.”  Maes snorted.  “That’s what it is, he’s doing?  Crack?”

“Probably.  Meth, definitely, and I’m sure heroin at some point.”  Roy sighed; he had done the latter a few times himself, while under cover, and he hoped that he’d never have to again.  “Whatever Kimblee can get in him.”

Roy could feel Maes wince.  “That’s some nasty stuff.  I swear, we’re gonna nail the bastard.”

Roy nodded, taking a deep breath, then exhaling.  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that.”

“And we need you here.  You’ve done amazingly so far.  You’re close.  We might even have him within the year.”

“I just need to get out soon.”  Roy pulled away, turning to look over at Maes and smile crookedly, though he still wasn’t able to put much sincerity in it.  “But thanks for kicking my ass this time.”

“I’m always here to kick your ass, Roy,” Maes replied fondly.

“Don’t I know it.”  Some of the exhaustion had receded, but he still leaned back again.  “How’s Gracia?”

Maes’s beam was practically audible.  “She’s great!  She’s got a couple more months to go, but the baby’s looking plenty healthy!”

“I hope I can be there for that.”

“So do I.”  When Roy turned to look over, Maes’s face had softened.  “I’m hopeful, definitely.”

“Maybe this will be over by then.”

“If we catch a break?  It will be.”

Roy sighed again, turning to look out the window for a moment, a weight settling on his chest once again.  “I should go.”

“Yeah.”  Maes smiled at him sadly.  “Good luck, though.”

“Thanks.”  Roy opened the door, holding up the pills.  “And thanks for these, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

Roy won the kid over with the pool story.

They had settled into a rhythm, over the next few weeks, and it had become almost comfortable.  Roy paid for services, the kid delivered, all of this at least once every three or four days.  He didn’t wait until the weekends anymore, and the kid actively sought him out if he saw Roy in the club, sometimes even gracing him with his morning-after persona, his sobriety making him much more reticent.

But the day he managed to make that Angel crack a smile was a day he would always hold in his fondest memories.  They had stopped by McDonald’s again, and Roy had broken his bank again, and they had parked in the lot and Roy was trying, again, to somehow break through that exterior.

“So, it worked wonderfully, until they realized there was a _reason_ for building codes, and why most buildings don’t have pools on the roof.”

“Oh, god,” the kid muttered, wincing.

“So, thanks to the relative weight of the water, the age of the building—“

“And the stress of the heat.  I see where this is going.”

Roy smirked.  “Yes, I imagine you do.  It collapsed, a giant hole in the roof, right on top of a poor girl and her john.  Who, I might add, just so happened to be a city councilman running for mayor.  The brothel got _wonderful_ sponsorship for our silence on that one.  And sixteen-year-old me, of course, had the perfect vantage point to see the makeshift pool collapse, and water start pouring out from the door of the room underneath it.  I was on a flight of stairs eating a bomb pop,” he finished thoughtfully.  “I’ll never forget it.”

When he glanced over, miracle of miracles, the kid was _smiling._

“Hah!  You’re grinning!”

It vanished, but Roy would never forget the sight.  “No I’m not.”

“Sure you were.”  Roy reached over to elbow him.  “Come on, that means you owe me an answer.”

“No it doesn’t,” the kid muttered, scowling.  “We never—“

“Favorite season, fall.  Favorite color…?”

“What is this, twenty fuckin’ questions?”

“No, but if you’re not going to tell me your name, least I can know is your favorite color.”

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to name pets you can’t keep?”  But still, he shrugged.  “Red.”

“That might apply if you were a cat.  Easy mistake to make, I think.  You are, however, a person.”  He turned, a fond smile on his face.  “So what happens if I wear a red shirt?”

“Please don’t; drug dealers already have a fuckin’ abysmal life expectancy.”

Roy paused, confused, trying to decide… had he heard that right?  Had he completely misinterpreted that?  But he didn’t see any other meaning…

“Did… you just make a Star Trek joke?”

“Did you just _get_ a Star Trek joke?” the kid shot back, a little defensively.

“I did.”  Roy’s smile grew.  “I loved Star Trek, as a kid.”

“Yeah, that was probably when it started airing, right?”  His tone had shifted from defensive to dry, but Roy was too pleased to take offense.

“Of course not,” he replied airily.  “I was old enough to watch it.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you even for that old.”

“I’m not.  How old would you guess I am?”

The kid turned, squinting, considering, then…

“Thirty-three?”

Roy’s jaw dropped.  “Rude!”

“So I’m told.”  The kid turned to look out the window, sniffling.

“I’m twenty-seven,” he said carefully, holding out some tissues he kept in his glove box.

“Congrats.”  The kid waved his hand dismissively at the tissues.

“Any favorite shows?”  Roy put them back in the glove box.  “My friend likes Scandal.”

The kid snorted.  “Yeah, tons.  I watch ‘em all on the sixty inch I bought last year with all my disposable income, during all of my free time.”

“Sounds like the life to me.”

“Then why don’t you drop your job and take up hustling?  It’s loads of fun,” he drawled.  “Exotic venues like piss-smelling alleys, party drugs you just _can’t_ put down, exciting and friendly clients, _great_ and flexible hours…”

“I’m afraid,” Roy replied, torn between humor and horror, “that I wouldn’t be very good at it.”

The kid drummed his fingers on his knee, foot jiggling, and sniffed again.  “Yeah, okay.”

“I tend to get very mopey when I’m high.”

The kid stilled, shooting him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t say anything.

Roy turned away, looking out the window.  “I get sleepy when I drink, and I can’t get hard.  I get depressed when I get high… I’m really not much fun, it seems.”

“Oh, no, you’re plenty of fun all right.”

The kid meant it, Roy could tell, but he also didn’t sound too pleased about it.  Roy winced, rolling around a question he had been meaning to ask on his tongue, then took a deep breath and plunged.

“Do… would you prefer that I stopped hiring you, Angel?”

“What?”  When the kid looked over at Roy, Roy could see that he was trying to suppress a look of alarm.  “No, of course not.”

Roy tried to keep his voice steady.  “You can tell me to stop without fear of reprisal.”

The kid… then did something Roy hadn’t been expecting, not in the slightest.

He burst into laughter, harder than Roy had ever seen him, even when he was high.

Well, he was hoping the kid would have taken it at least a _little_ better.  There was, of course, the matter of the kid’s pimp, which Roy hadn’t realized until… just now.

Roy thought for a long minute, trying to form words that wouldn’t scare him off.  “I don’t think this is anything but what it is.  I know I’m paying you for a service, and I return because that service is excellent.  I don’t think this is some fairy tale, where I save you or anything.  Hell, I’m not in any kind of boat to do that.  But… we could always work towards being slightly friendly when we’re not fucking.”

“We are friendly when we’re not fucking.  Right before fucks, between fucks, right after fucks.”  The kid glanced over at him impatiently.  “But don’t be ridiculous.  No one likes me when I’m not high.  It’s not even worth bothering trying on your end.”

Roy kept his expression steady; every time they spoke, it seemed, the kid threw yet another dart towards his heart and hit bullseye.  “Well, I disagree.  I’d be willing to try.”

The kid snorted.  “Okay, whatever you say.  You got a fuckin’ cigarette?”

“Sorry, don’t smoke.”

The kid sighed.  “Well, nobody’s fuckin’ perfect, I guess.”  The kid started digging around in his pockets, pulled out a box of condoms, and looked delighted when he found a cigarette inside.  He leaned forward and jammed the car’s cigarette lighter, pressed the button rolling down the passenger side window, and lit up.

Roy just sighed softly, watching as the kid shoved it between his lips and took a deep drag, curling up to put the soles of his shoes against the dash.  If he got burns on the upholstery…

“So?”  The kid tapped some ash outside the window.  The chill of the late fall air swept in, leaving him shivering slightly, and Roy had to resist the urge to pull him in and wrap him in a bundle of blankets.

“So what?”

“I thought you wanted to fuckin’ talk.  I should charge you for this, y’know.”  He didn’t sound super sincere, or even hostile.  Tired, yes, and apathetic, but… Roy had made him laugh before.  Maybe he could get through to him some other way.

“People don’t like me when I’m not on drugs, either.”  Roy said quietly.  “I have to take antidepressants so I don’t shoot myself in the head.  Or make other people want to do it for me, according to them.”

The kid paused at that, then looked over and just stared.  Roy met his eyes, but he couldn’t quite ignore his worry of being completely rejected.

“Then what the fuck are you doing wasting your time with a sad sack of shit like me?  I’ll only fuck you up more.”  He took another drag, blowing it out the window.

“That’s not true.”  Roy struggled for a moment with a surge of fierce protectiveness, willing it not to come through in his voice.  “I don’t know that I could get any lower than before I started the pills, and right now, in this car, I actually feel pretty good.  And that’s partly to do with the sunrise, and the coffee, but also a great deal to do with you.”

The kid snorted at that, but Roy _might_ have caught the faintest hint of a flush on his dark cheek.  “With me.  I’m sure.”

“Do you see anyone else in the car?”

“I guess I just don’t get it, is all,” the kid murmured, staring off into space in the general direction of his cigarette.

“I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”  When the kid made a skeptical noise, Roy continued, suddenly _needing_ to show this kid what he meant—what he could mean.  “I’ve met you multiple times when you’re not high, and you haven’t frightened me off yet.”

“Oh, right.  Yeah.”  The kid smiled wryly.  “Guess some people can tolerate me.”  He turned and blew some more smoke out the window, but he didn’t argue.  Roy counted it a victory, small as it was, and they sat a few moments in silence.

“Tolerable and enjoyable aren’t the same thing, though.

Roy shook his head at the kid’s words.  There it was.  “You rarely return to something you only tolerate.”

“Clearly you haven’t met any of my returning clients.”

The thought left Roy grimacing.  “That’s a question of consent, though.  You do so as your job.  I’m under no such obligation to spend time with you.”

“No, I mean, they keep coming back to me.”

“Then you clearly underestimate yourself.”

The kid let out a surprised laugh, almost dropping his cigarette.  “Okay, Roy.”

“What?”  Roy couldn’t figure this damn kid out, and his bewilderment showed.  “You _are_ good at what you do.”

“Just like I always wanted to be growing up,” the kid muttered dryly.  “That’s what I’m trying to say.  People tolerate me because I can give them a good fuck.  Nothing else.”

“That is not the reason I’m here,” Roy said quietly, firmly.

“Then what is?”

Roy sighed.  “I… don’t really know.  You interest me, I’m lonely.”  He shrugged.  “I grew up in a brothel.  I had prostitutes for friends and family more than anyone else.  I guess it’s just familiar.”  He had the feeling that “you look at me like you want to beg for help” might not go over too well, so he kept that one to himself.

“So, what, you decided to pick a random hooker to befriend?”

“If I remember correctly, you came onto me first.”

“I’ll take your word for it.  Besides, I come onto everyone.  And you’re the one who decided to stick around after.”

Roy shook his head, then shrugged.  He couldn’t really argue something he couldn’t articulate in the first place.  “You understand my reasoning as well as I do.”

At that, the kid threw his free hand up, going back to puffing his cigarette.  Roy sat quietly, enjoying the sun and his coffee.

When the kid had finished, he flicked the butt out the window.  “So, want me to suck you off?” he asked, unenthused.

Roy didn’t even bat an eyelid.  “No, but thanks for the offer.”

The kid shifted, propping his elbow on the armrest, shifting his hips and smirking slightly.  The reticent demeanor had gone; the prostitute was back.  “You sure about that?” he purred.  “I mean, I can understand being concerned that you won’t be able to drive after, but I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

Instead of turning him on, the display just saddened Roy.  “No, Angel.  I don’t need sex all the time.”

The kid sighed, demeanor dropping immediately, and shrugged, flopping back into his chair, undoubtedly bummed that he couldn’t score an extra fifty bucks.  “Okay.  So now what?”

“I suppose I could drive you back.”

“Sure.”  The kid sounded as excited about the possibility as anything else, so Roy started his car and handed him his phone.  “You can pick the music.”

Roy had _not_ expected the Beyoncé.  He retaliated by singing.  Out of the corner of his eye, he vaguely noticed the kid watching.

…All right, so maybe he got into it a little, knowing that he had an audience.  Louder, better, a little bit of dancing, bothering to get the words right for once.  When he finally glanced over after what was, in his opinion, a particularly stunning rendition of Halo, the kid’s mouth was hanging open.

Roy grinned.

The kid jumped, realizing he had been caught staring, then turned bright red, turning to look out the window.  Roy just smiled after him.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” came the sharp reply, before the kid turned around to glare at him.  “Why the fuck are you peddling drugs with a voice like that?”

“I had limited opportunities,” Roy replied, voice wry.

“You should have gone on American Idol or some shit.”

“I wouldn’t have had the chance.”

“Why not?”

Roy hesitated, then finally decided on, “I rarely sing in public.”

“Well, you should.  I doubt you wanna be in this shithole of a city any more than I do.”

The words left Roy wincing.  He knew that it wasn’t a shithole, not really, or at least that it wouldn’t be, once Bradley was gone.  But he couldn’t tell the kid that, not when he had suffered so much at the hands of the man, at least indirectly.  “I know, Angel.  I’d like to leave too.”

“American Idol, then.  Do it.  I’d vote for you.  If I ever got a fuckin’ phone.”  The kid leaned back in his seat again, scrunching up and propping up his feet.

“You don’t have a phone?”  Roy glanced over, slightly alarmed at the thought.  If he found himself in trouble…

“Do I look like I can afford a fuckin’ phone?”

“Well.”  Roy sighed.  “I don’t know.  Would you vote for me if I sang something besides Beyoncé?”

“Maybe.  If you dedicated it to that hot blond hooker you fuck sometimes in filthy motels before singing it.”  Though Roy couldn’t glance over for too long when driving, he was _fairly_ sure he caught a hint of a smirk on the kid’s face.  That left him absurdly pleased, just as any further hint of personality did.

“Of course I would.  How could you think otherwise?”

“Damn straight.”

Roy twiddled his thumbs on the steering wheel, though it was nothing to the kid’s fidgeting.  He cycled between a few questions, and then…

“Where would you go, if you could?”

The kid took a deep breath, turning and staring out the window.  “Cambridge.  Berkley.  Pasadena.”  He muttered it with a frown.  “Any fucking where.”

The words left Roy stunned for a moment, then _thrilled_ afterward.  He had goals.  Dreams, at least.  “College towns?”

He caught sight of the kid hunching out of the corner of his eye.  “Might be.”

“You have plans?”  He kept his tone balanced between casual, wary of frightening him off, and interested, wanting the kid to know that what he was saying was important.

“Fuck no.  Not any— Like I have the cash,” he huffed.

“There are scholarships.  If you found a genie in a bottle, right now, what would you wish for?”

“Yeah, I know there are scholarships,” he snapped.  “I got one.”

When Roy glanced over, eyes widening in surprise, he could see that the kid had gone red.  “But that’s not—look, I need the cash from this job, okay?”

“You did?  That’s impressive, Angel.”  Roy meant it, and did his best to make sure that the kid knew he meant it, too.  “Can I ask what made you get into this?” he asked, carefully trying not to assign blame.

The kid huffed again.  “My brother’s at Johns Hopkins, okay?”

“A family of geniuses, then.”

The kid snorted.  “He’s in school.  He’s the genius.”

Roy smiled over at him.  “So you’re getting money for his school?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan, what he needs after his financial aid.  And this was great because it fucking paid enough, right?”

“You got a scholarship, though.  That’s nothing to sneeze at.  And I don’t know if even the pay is enough to justify how much you seem to hate it.”

The kid’s lip curled.  “I stop working, he stops going to school.  Do you know how much that place is, even with financial aid?”

“Loans aren’t an option either?” he asked, wondering if they were how the kid had found himself in this position…

He whirled to glare at Roy.  “Like I’m gonna fuckin’ settle Al with a few hundred grand of debt!”

“And that’s why you won’t take drugs for sex.  I understand now.”  Roy shook his head, gut twisting with the unfairness of it all.  “What made you turn down your own scholarship?”

The kid looked away again.  “He got money, but not as much as he needed.  I’d already started working…”  The kid sighed.  “I just told him I didn’t get anything, so he might as well go so one of us could afford it.”

“So you don’t think that being a college graduate would have helped you get a higher paying job?”

The kid shot Roy a scathing look, and though Roy didn’t need it to realize how dumb of a question it had been, it certainly drove the point home.  “And what were we supposed to do until then?  No one’s gonna loan a fucking ton of money to a couple of unemployed, parentless kids, and I’m not saddling Al with that.”

Roy winced.  That had come out all wrong; he wanted to give the kid hope for future possibilities, not lambast him for past decisions.  “You could try taking a couple of small loans at first, maybe, for yourself, and work part-time?”

“Oh, yeah, get a job, because they’re obviously fucking growing on trees.”  The kid’s foot lashed out to deliver a vicious kick to the dashboard.  “Why the fuck do you think I’m here, because I got a nice salaried office job with a 401k and decided I wanted something more thrilling?”

“No,” Roy replied quietly.  “But I do think that with the right opportunity, you can turn your considerable intelligence to something other than what you’re doing quite easily.  If you wanted, to, that’s one thing, but there are more ways to make money than selling sex.  I could ask around, see if there are any better paying jobs—”

“Like what, selling drugs?” the kid snarled scornfully.  “Look, I get it, you fuckin’ blame me for bein’ lazy enough to get in this position.  Fine.  Join the club.  Just take me back.”

“No!”  Roy shook his head quickly; out of the corner of his eye, Roy could see tension in every line of Ed’s body.  “I don’t blame you.  I think that’s one of the bravest and most selfless things I’ve ever seen.  I just wish that bravery hadn’t ended you up in this situation, and I want to think of a way out of it for you.”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“Because I respect admirable traits.”

“Like what, a total lack of a gag reflex?”

Roy should have kept his mouth shut, but it outsped his brain.  “Well, that’s more of a skill than a trait.”

“But you wouldn’t give a shit if you hadn’t liked my blow job.”

Roy sighed, wondering if it were possible to dodge all of the prickles.  “If I had met you in any other capacity, I’m sure those same qualities would have struck me as important.”

“What, you think you would have gotten a blow job even if I hadn’t been a hooker?  Cocky.”

Roy laughed at that, this time, keeping his eye on the road as he braked at a red light.  “Assuming, of course, a more normal environment.”

“Hey, the real Ed was _very_ stingy about blow jobs.”

“Ed, huh?”  Roy smiled over at him, glad for the brief respite from driving.  “Short for Edward?”

Ed winced.  “Shit.”

Roy’s smile turned a little sad, and he turned back towards the road.  “Sorry.  I’ll keep calling you Angel.”

“Now you’re just humoring me.”

“No, I’m not.”  Roy kept his eyes fixed on the steering wheel, intently inspecting the way that the morning sun glared off of the textured surface.  “I understand not wanting me to know your name.”

Ed snorted.  “Really?  I was just trying to piss you off.”

The touching moment gone, Roy rolled his eyes.  “So, should I call you Ed or not.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care,” Ed said with a shrug.

“Fine, Ed.”  Roy nodded.  “It fits you.  Simple.  Straightforward.  I like it.”

Ed scoffed.  “You think I’m simple and straightforward?”

Roy… well, he might be letting his tongue run away with him.  “No, I imagine you’re much more complicated, but about the important things, you know where you stand.  Like about your brother.  You know exactly what you’re doing for him.”

“Great, a drug dealer thinks I’m an exemplary human being.  I’ll put it on my résumé.”

“You should,” Roy replied cheerfully, not allowing himself to be _too_ perturbed.  He knew Ed’s name!  “Along with ‘great with people’ and ‘anticipating needs.’”  At that last bit, the smile turned into a smirk.

Ed rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, as long as you’ll be a reference.”

“Of course; I’m an upstanding citizen of good repute.”

“I already offered to make you upstanding.  You said no.”

Roy barely managed to keep from slamming on the gas too quickly, such was the force with which he suppressed his laugh.  “Now, a pun as well-done as that, I can appreciate in any context.”

“You’re a fuckin’ dork.”

“Why, thank you.  I strive to be fucking rather often.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Ed muttered.

Roy let out a soft chuckle, glancing back over at Ed as traffic slowed again.  “I can cut back.”

“No you can’t.  You like fucking me too much.”

“That’s true.”

Ed sighed, looking out the window, and a little bit of melancholy settled over Roy again.  He continued.  “I like talking to you, too.  And I like hearing you praise my singing.”

Ed muttered, “See if I ever do that again.”  But Roy could very clearly see that Ed was _blushing_ , and he grinned.

“What band do you sing along with?”

“I don’t.  You _definitely_ don’t wanna hear me sing.”

Roy tilted his head, unable to keep from smirking, not with such a brilliant, amazing, gorgeous, wonderful person in his car, who was finally _talking_ to him.  Sober, too, and like a human being.  “I kind of do.”

“Uh, no.  You’d have to pay me way fuckin’ more than a few hundred bucks for that.”

“What if I played Rihanna?”

“Rihanna isn’t money.  Give me amounts.”

“Is Rihanna not _enough_ for you?” Roy gasped, mock-offended.

“No one is good enough for me to humiliate myself like that.”

“Please!  I humiliated myself trying to imitate Beyoncé, of all people.”

“Humiliated?  Yeah, right.  You’d better go before you get honked at.”

Roy glanced back at the road, driving forward the next several yards before slowing to a halt again.  He caught sight of an orange sign.  Construction.  Usually a nuisance, this time it meant that he got more time to spend with Ed.  “No one can fully imitate Beyoncé.”

“But you gave it an admirable go.”

“Why, thank you.”  Roy half-bowed, as much as he could while driving, finally making it past the congestion and speeding up as he did so.  Ed reached out to grip the armrest, looking alarmed.

“Don’t wreck.  Despite what my behavior might suggest, I would really like not to die.”

“I’m a very good driver.”

“Says the guy who took the route that _everyone_ knows is under construction all the fucking time.  You’re fuckin’ insane is what you are.”

“Why do you say that?”  Roy smirked slightly, tilting his head.  No need for Ed to find out that he had taken the slow route on purpose.

“Just… no reason, okay?”

Roy debated pushing further, but he recognized the neighborhood and pulled in.

“This is my stop.”

Roy sighed, pulling up to the curb.  “All right.”  As Ed hopped out, he called after him. “I do think what you’re doing is incredibly selfless.”

Ed laughed, but there was no humor in it.  “Or stupid.”

A slam of the door cut off their conversation.  Once again, Roy was forced to watch as Ed simply vanished into somewhere unknown.


	5. Chapter 5

Ed should have stolen the bastard’s wallet.

He had had that thought several times since that first night he and Roy had spent together, staggering into Kimblee’s stable, way too sober for existence.  He certainly hadn’t meant to spend the night, not at first; usually, johns got _real_ pissy when you were still around, especially now that you weren’t the high little sex kitten they had hired.  He had expected Roy to yell, maybe knock him around a bit, and then he could scram.

But no.  He had bought Ed breakfast.  A _lot_ of breakfast.

And now Ed kept letting himself be drawn in.  Actively sought it out, even.  He told himself that it was just because Roy hit him less—not at all, actually, now that he thought about it—and that he was a damn good lay, making sure that Ed got off every time.  And he had started to pay Ed for their morning breakfasts, too, _without_ needing a blow job in exchange.  Hell, he was going to have to come up with an hourly rate at this point: before Roy, only King Bradley had him for long enough periods that it was a concern, and you didn’t charge the big boss.

But Ed had _told_ Roy things.  His name.  His background.  About _Al_ , someone that Ed had sworn he would never let the sordidness of this life touch.  What the hell kind of idiot was he?  Better to have avoided all of this.  A _smart_ hooker would have gone for Roy’s wallet the first night the moment the idiot had fallen asleep with a strange prostitute in his room, kept the cash, and never looked back.  The way Ed was cavorting about, he was actively encouraging something to go wrong—the near-rabid possessiveness of one of his least pleasant customers came to mind.

But the bed had been so soft, and Roy had been so warm.  And the shit that Roy kept getting him was _way_ better than the shit Kimblee—

“Ed!  What the fuck are you doing in so late?”

Speaking of Kimblee.

He grimaced and turned, a sulky, wary look on his face, and glared at Kimblee.  “I was _working._  Y’know, like you’ve never done a day in your—“

The cuff to his head was cursory, just like the insult, and Ed took it with barely a flinch.

“All right, smartass.  If you were working, you have anything to show for it?”

Ed sighed, reaching into his pocket for the hundred dollar bills Roy had given him—eight in total.  “Here.”

“You holding out on me?”

“I know better,” Ed snapped, glaring at the asshole’s smarmy face.  He had tried it once; a broken arm and the subsequent loss of the salary from Kimblee for the next six weeks had ensured that it never happened again.

“Good.”  Kimblee took the money—and Ed’s wrist.  Ed froze, hunching his shoulders slightly, watching Kimblee warily.

“What?  You got your money.”

“And that’s not all I want.  You’re getting a little too mouthy lately.  Time for you to remember who’s boss.”

Kimblee pushed him forward, towards his room, then stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around Ed, kissing on his neck and shoulders.  He lingered on the right, mouthing over the tattoo, and Ed closed his eyes in disgust.  He hated sober sex, and he _hated_ remembering that the tattoo was there, a mark of being owned that left him nauseous and bitter.  But Kimblee, of course, loved the reminder.

After Kimblee stripped him and fucked him thoroughly, very deliberately not using a condom, he left him naked in his bed to mope a little bit before the lunch hour rush started.  Ed reached over to the bedside table—though it was so tiny that it barely qualified as a table—picking up the things he had left.

Crack, of course, for when he went out to turn tricks in a couple of hours, thank god.  His small salary, all of which was going to Al the moment he put it in a cashier’s check.  And—

A letter from Al!

So maybe he could hold off on getting high.  Just for a little while.

Beaming despite himself, he sat up in bed, slit open the envelope, and began to read.

—

That night, Ed did something he would have never considered two months ago: he headed to Bradley’s club half sober.

He was staking a lot, on the hope that Roy would be there, that Ed wouldn’t be pawed over by anyone else before he found him, but it was Saturday, and he had Roy’s meth in his pocket if he needed it.  But maybe… maybe he might not.

Lo and behold, within a few minutes of stepping into the club, he spotted Roy—and he was with someone.

Ed didn’t recognize the man, and the way he was leaning towards Roy, smirking, trying to reach out and touch, left something in Ed seething.  Roy, on the other hand, simply looked uncomfortable, and it was that sight that caused Ed to do what he did next.

Striding over, chin lifted, he caught sound of the first guy’s words: “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.  Take me home?   _Marry_ me.  I… the things I’d do t’you…”

Rolling his eyes at the drunk words he had heard a _million_ times before and knowing precisely how sincere they were, he stepped forward, slinging an arm around Roy’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he drawled.  “He’s with me.”

Luckily, the man was apparently not a belligerent drunk, because after a few pouts and cursory protests, the man slunk off.

“Thanks.”  Roy rolled his eyes and turned to Ed, reaching out to take his hands and kiss the backs.  Fuck, where had he _learned_ to do romantic shit like that?  Why did it leave Ed’s stomach doing backflips?  “That probably happens to you all the time,” Roy sighed, smiling a little wryly.

On an impulse, Ed leaned in to kiss Roy’s cheek.  “Yeah, everyone wants to save me and thinks that the only way to do that is to make sure I’m tied to their dick.”

Roy, fucking nerd that he was, nodded sagely.  “I hear dick tying is rather distressing.”

_That_ left Ed giggling, the drugs leaving a floating feeling in his chest.  “Only if you’re not into it!”

When Roy smiled at Ed, Ed felt, for just a moment, like the center of the universe.  “I’m pretty sure a marriage kink is a hard one to work out.”

That deflated Ed some, and he slumped a little.  “Ugh.  You’re telling me.”  He shuddered.  “There’s this one guy…”  But no, Roy didn’t need to know about that.  He shook his head, hunching his shoulders, uncomfortable, and turned away.

“Yeah?”  When Ed glanced over, Roy’s head was tilted, his expression completely non-judgmental.  Fuck, where did this guy _come_ from?

Ed shrugged.  “It’s just creepy, is all.  He keeps trying, and the shit that he says…  You saw him the other night, actually, the first night I jerked off for you.  Took me into an alley after you dropped me off.”

“I remember.”  Roy leaned over the bar to get a drink, and got Ed one as well, heading over to one of the booths, which were slightly quieter.  “What does he say?”

Ed sighed, pressing his side into him, resting his head on Roy’s shoulder.  “Like, creepy shit about how he’d take care of me if he were my husband.  Like, what he’d do, and some of it is really weird.  Talking about how he’d love to see how parts of me fit together each and every day, and… yeah.”

When Ed glanced up, Roy was looking down at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.  “You should get him Legos, or a Barbie or something.”  With a kiss to the top of Ed’s head, he reached for a napkin.  “He does sound creepy.”  Roy pulled out a pen, writing some numbers on the napkin, then pushed it over, so Ed could see that it was a phone number.  “If you need me to come out and save the day.”

Ed laughed softly, half-smiling down at it.  “No phone, remember?”

“Payphones exist.”  God, it was unfair how damn _good_ that smirk looked on Roy.  “I could pay you in all quarters if you’d like.”

Ed huffed, leaning in to kiss his jaw affectionately.  “Not with how much I’m gonna start charging you if you do.”

Roy lifted his hand to run his fingers through Ed’s ponytail.  “Can you tell me about the creepy guy?”  He sighed.  “Something doesn’t sit right about that.”

Ed chuckled, turning to lean back across Roy’s lap.  “What, you jealous.”

“Certainly.  I’ve always wanted to be the creepy man a prostitute tells stories about.”

“I tell stories about you, all right.”  Ed laughed softly, leaning in to kiss him.

Roy kissed back, but when Ed pulled away, continued.  “How often does he see you?”

Ed pressed his lips together; he really did _not_ like thinking about the guy.  “I dunno, every week or so.”

“And he’s that creepy, every time?”

“Yeah.”  Ed shrugged, hoping to end the conversation.  “But he pays well.”

“Great.”  Roy didn’t sound happy, but he rubbed his hand up and down Ed’s side gently.

“Right?  I got Al a birthday present because of him.”

Ed could hear the smile in his voice at that.  “What did you get him?”

“This awesome coat he’d wanted for years, but we could never afford.  I told him I got a bonus.”  Ed had been proud of that, and it showed in his voice.

“That seems nice.  And practical.”

“Hey, it was really cool, okay?”

“I have no doubt.”  His hand continued to rub Ed’s side, and for some reason, it left a bit of a lump in Ed’s throat.  And a bit of a crazy plan for tonight, that had begun to hatch that morning, taking deeper and deeper root.

He finally sighed, shifting a little.  “I’ve always kinda hated it in here.  So loud.”

He could feel the deep chuckle rumbling through Roy’s stomach, and something else rumbling through his own.  “You know, you’re free to say no to me, but we could go to my place instead of the motel.  I think it’s closer to your place anyway.”  He poked Ed’s side gently, earning himself a squawk and squirm.  “And I can make breakfast, instead of breaking the bank buying it for you.”

Ed sat up slowly, mouth falling open, stomach now doing a thousand backflips a second.  He tried to think of something to say, tried to find the words…

Roy cleared his throat, sounding a little sheepish.  “You, um, can say no.  If you feel uncomfortable.”

“What?” Ed choked out.  “No!  I mean, I guess I’m just surprised that you asked.”  It just sounded very… datelike, and he had almost come down from the meth by now, so he couldn’t even blame it on the drugs.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Ed shrugged, turning away, trying to hide his discomfort.  “Didn’t know if you’d want me diseasing up the place.”

He heard a soft snort from behind him.  “Unless you fuck yourself with one of my spatulas, I’m pretty sure that isn’t going to be a problem.”

Ed winced a little, the words digging into a spot between two of his ribs, but when he turned, he was grinning brightly.  “Yeah, sure.  Let’s go.”  His fingers dug in his pocket, searching for the meth.  Stupid, stupid—

Roy leaned in to kiss his temple, and fuck, the bastard _still_ took his breath away.  “You know I don’t care if you have anything or not.  I know you’re as careful as you can be.”

He offered Ed a straw, and he took it, trying not to let his fingers shake.  Fuck, this was humiliating, but he couldn’t be surprised.  Yeah, he knew how other people looked at him, but he hadn’t realized that Roy _agreed._

So much for his plan to sleep with Roy sober.

Roy, oblivious, leaned over to kiss his forehead.  “You’re beautiful.  I don’t think I tell you that often enough.”

He shoved the straw into his pocket.  He’d do it in the car.  Shaking Roy off, he headed for the door.

Roy followed, and the bastard was still so _concerned._  “I’m sorry, would you rather go to the clinic?”  Ed could hear the confusion in his voice.  “I’ll still make you breakfast.”

At that, Ed whirled, gaping at him, fury now mixed with the hurt.  “Fuck, you really do think I’m some diseased hooker!  Well, never fucking mind, then.  Save your fucking breakfast.”

Roy drew back, bewildered.  “What?  No.  I thought… that’s the first time you brought up any kind of infection.  I assumed that it was for a reason.”

“No,” Ed snarled.  “I was fucking saying that’s the kind of thing that people think about us!  That we’re dirty and diseased and that’s why they don’t ever want us in their fucking homes!”

Roy reached out to take Ed’s hands again, and the action surprised him so much that he didn’t pull away.  “No, Angel.  If I had thought that, I wouldn’t have invited you to begin with.”  He shook his head, and fuck, _fuck_ , the sincerity in his eyes left it hard to fucking breathe.  “I’m sorry I misunderstood.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“…Oh.”  Ed mumbled the word, looking down, flushing.  His eyes slide over to the drugs in his hand, considering…

He tugged both hands away and shoved them in his pockets.  “Let’s go, then.”

There was no way Roy could have missed seeing what he had done with the drugs, and Ed was pretty sure that the gorgeous, brilliant smile was for him.  Was for that.

He offered his hand, and Ed took it, hoping he wasn’t approximately tomato-colored by now.  He wasn’t optimistic, though.  Not high enough for that.

Still, as Roy tugged him to the car, as they walked hand in hand, he felt a smile tugging at his lips, his heart light in a way that he hadn’t remembered was possible without some kind of chemical stimulant.  They reached the car, Roy unlocking it, but their hands lingered…

And then Ed heard the screaming.

Ed and Roy both whirled, Roy’s hand getting tugged out of Ed’s in the process, just in time to spot a crazed form running towards them, shrieking in fury.

Ed caught sight of the gleam of metal before the person crashed into Roy, sending them both tumbling down.

_Barry._

The crazed man, the same stalker about whom Ed had been telling Roy earlier, shrieked again, lifting the knife to swing it down at Roy—

With a terrified wail, Ed lunged forward, sending all ninety pounds of himself crashing into Barry.

Though he wasn’t even close to, say, a linebacker, Barry was a slim man anyway, and Ed had the element of surprise on his side.  He managed to wrangle away the knife, slashing it across Barry’s chest and face before staggering away towards a pothole in the parking lot.  Barry followed, still screaming his fury, but Ed managed to get his hands around a chunk of asphalt and whirled, clocking it across Barry’s head.

Barry went down faster than Ed on a busy night.

Shaking, hand still clutching the knife, Ed staggered back over to Roy, eyes wide, suddenly _very_ thankful that he hadn’t taken the drugs.

Roy was still conscious, barely, choking softly and fumbling at his pocket.  In the dim light, Ed could see a dark liquid spreading across Roy’s abdomen.

Ed _screamed._

Scrambling for something—anything—he yanked off his shirt—fuck, mesh was so useless, but he pressed it against the stab wound anyway.  The shaking had gotten worse, and Roy reached out, bloody fingers touching Ed’s face…

“Passenger side,” Roy choked.  “Floorboard.  Under… phone.  Call… the number…”

“Wh—no!” Ed blurted, pressing harder, the blood seeping through his fingers.  “No, you need an ambulance—“  He looked around frantically, praying that someone had heard, but given how bad of a part of town this was, the emptiness didn’t surprise him.

Roy reached down to touch Ed’s hands, trying to hold the shirt there.  “Call… call Maes.  He can help.  I promise.”

“Roy—oh god—“ he gasped, feeling tears, to his horror, beginning to fill his eyes.  He stumbled over to the car, yanking open the door and digging for the promised phone.  Though his bloody fingers smeared the buttons, only one name was in the contacts screen.  He pushed send.

“Do you know what time it is?” the annoyed voice on the other end sighed.  “I could have been raking the lawn!”

The words barely registered.  “You—you’re Maes?” Ed gasped, voice shaky.

“Who’s this?”  The voice went from exasperated to serious in an instant, and Ed could hear a TV muting in the background.

“This—this is Ed.  I’m a… a friend,” Ed choked out, nearly dropping the phone as he staggered back over to Roy.  Fuck, he could barely see straight with how badly he was shaking.  Roy, Roy—  “He told me to call you, but he’s bleeding and he needs an ambulance—fuck this is my fault—“  He let out a ragged sob, the twisting in his gut worse than anything Barry could have done to him.

“Ed, calm down.  Tell me what happened and where you are.  I’ll get someone out right away.”

“I’m in—in the back parking lot of Dionysus club.  You know where that is?”

“’Course I do.  I’ve got someone on the way, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.  Can you stay with Roy until then?”

“Yeah.  He… he’s bleeding real bad—fuck, it’s all over my hands—“  Ed tried to hold the shirt tighter with his free hand, but the panic was setting in—

“It’s okay, Ed.  Is he awake?”

“I… Roy?” he choked out.  “Sweetheart?  Can you hear me?”  He hated how quiet and scared his voice sounded, but Roy’s eyes had closed, and his pale skin was now a shocking contrast against Ed’s darker tone.

“Did you get Maes?” came the whisper.

“Y-yeah, I did.  Someone’s on their way.  Hold on, okay?”  Ed turned his attention back to the phone.  “Half.  If that.”

“Okay, Ed.  Just keep him talking.  I’ll stay on the phone with you.  Can you give me a rough estimate of how much blood there is?”

“Fuck.  Uhh… shit.  A lot.”  Ed took a deep, shaky breath, trying to force himself to focus.  He needed to, if he was going to save Roy.  “Liter and a half?  Maybe two… but not all of it is his.”

“Okay, Ed.  It is very important that you keep him awake.”  Ed could hear the harsh tone in Maes’s voice, and he realized that Maes was scared, too.  “Keep him talking.”  Ed heard a car start on the other side of the phone, and nodded, barely realizing that Maes couldn’t see him.

“Okay.  Roy?  Roy, look at me.  Roy, baby, talk to me.”  Ed laughed desperately, wishing he could breathe.  “Why don’t you tell me one of your stories?  About growing up.”

Ed could see Roy struggling to stay awake, but also that he wasn’t really all there.  “Hey, that’s Maes, right?” he asked weakly, smiling fondly.  “I loved him for the longest time.”

Ed made a strangled noise, wondering if this was what being stabbed had felt like for Roy, then gasped.  “I—oh.  Okay.  Then…”  Ed took a deep breath.  “Talk to me about that, then.  About anything.”

“He… he tried for me, but he was super straight.”  Roy laughed a little sadly, his words coming slowly.  “Plus it was against the rules.  I don’t think he liked my tattoos, either.”  He tried to lift his head, but couldn’t manage, then frowned over at Ed.  “You like ‘em, right?”

Ed tried to smile back, but most of his energy was occupied with trying not to cry.  “I love your tattoos, Roy.”

“He’s talking about me, isn’t he?” Maes sighed from the other end of the phone.  “I just didn’t like the one on his hips.  It makes him look like a porn star.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Ed muttered, and Maes snorted.

“Thanks, Angel,” Roy murmured, smiling back, then closed his eyes.  “It feels like my entire chest is numb.”

“Keep talking, Roy.  About something.  Anything.”  Ed increased the pressure, biting his lip, arms shaking.

“The ambulance is almost there, Ed,” Maes said, voice reassuring.  “You’re doing great.”

Roy groaned.  “God, this job sucks.”

“Fucking told you being a drug dealer was bad news,” Ed snapped.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, love.”

Ed wasn’t sure if his heart constricted at the word or at the fact that Roy’s voice had weakened nearly past the point of understanding.

“Roy?  You still awake?”

He nodded slowly.  “Yeah.”  He sighed, then smiled slightly.  “I don’t like that guy.”

“Which one?  Barry?  Yeah.”  Ed let out a bark of laughter.  “I don’t like him either.”

“He’s your stalker?  I really don’t like him.”

“The one who kept trying to marry me, yeah.”  At that, Ed glanced over… and his heart sank.  “Oh, fuck,” he whispered.

“What’s the matter, Angel?”

“He’s not—he isn’t moving.  Fuck, I think he’s dead.”  The terror, numb from earlier, had started to creep in anew.  “I think I fucking killed him.”

“It was self-defense.”  Roy tried to move slightly, then let out a loud whimpering noise, prompting Ed to press the shirt harder.

Ed could now hear ambulance sirens in the distance.  He laughed hysterically.  “Like the fuckin’ cops are gonna believe that.  They’ll _jump_ at the chance to nail me!”

“It’s okay,” Roy mumbled.  “I’m a cop.  I saw it all.”

Fuck this asshole, making jokes at a time like this.  Ed couldn’t say that he was surprised in the slightest.  Ed laughed frantically.  “Okay, Roy.  Look. I can hear the ambulance.  Just a little longer.”

Roy groaned again.  “It’s starting to hurt.”

“That—that’s good, right?”  Ed had no idea what he was saying, just needed to keep Roy conscious.  “Means that you’re—you’re more awake.”

“I don’t know, feels like it’s… it’s inside,” he groaned, panting.  Ed glanced down again.  Fuck.  It looked _bad._

“Ambulance is almost here.”  He barely noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks, letting out a little sob.  “Hang on for me, baby, please.”

“I’ll be okay, Angel.”  He coughed at that—and then coughed again, and again, and didn’t stop.

“Oh, god,” Ed moaned into the phone.  “He—he needs a transfusion,” he babbled.  “He’s gonna die, he’s gonna die right now—I don’t know what’s happening—“

“Sir!”

Ed whirled, keeping the pressure on the wound, and his heart leaped with joy.  He had forgotten what that felt like.

“You needed the ambulance?”

“Yeah, he—he’s here, he’s right here—“

They got to work, urging Ed to step back, and he staggered gratefully out of the way.  One of them went over to check on Barry.  “Alive.”

Oh, thank _god._

Most of them went right to work on Roy, checking the wound, loading him up, ordering a transfusion immediately—fuck, Ed had been right.  The one who had checked on Barry was now strapping him in some cloth jacket looking thing, jerking straps to restrain him.  When he saw Ed watching him warily, he shrugged.

“K.E.D.  Use it for traffic victims, usually, but we got instructions that this one might be dangerous.  They’re sending a second ambulance for him, but bringing cops here is a _terrible_ idea, and we didn’t want him to get away before that.”

Ed relaxed slightly, then nodded, turning back to Roy, who was now being loaded into the ambulance.  He made to follow—

Only to be stopped.

“Sorry, sir,” the woman said, and she really did look sorry.  “We’ll need all the room we have in here.”

“What—hey, hold the fuck up!”  But she ignored him, hopping back up into the ambulance and shutting the door.  It began to drive away, and his eyes widened as he staggered after it.  “Wait just a second, motherfuckers—!“

“Ed?”

He whirled, eyes still wide, to see another man, this one not an EMT, hanging out the driver’s window of a Prius.  “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’m Maes.  I’m here to take you to the hospital.  Get in.”

Ed bolted for the passenger side door, scrambling in and putting on his seatbelt.  He could see another ambulance turning in, the EMT guarding Barry waving them down, but Maes sped out of there before Ed could see any more.

Ed took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves, at least a little.

“So, you okay?”

Ed turned to look at him, blinking, trying to process the words.

“I can help, if you tell me what happened.”

Ed swallowed, looking away again.  “It… it was all my fault.  Fuck.”  He whipped his head back.  “You can’t tell the cops, okay?  I stabbed him and he might be dead—“

“Did you stab Roy?  I heard you say something about a Barry.”

Ed whirled his head back, even more horrified now.  “No!  It’s this guy—fuck, his name’s Barry, he’s been… he wants to… he’s been stalking me,” he finished lamely.  “And I kinda… I mean, I guess he saw us tonight, because he came out, and when Roy turned…”  Flinching at the memory, he buried his face in his hands, the stink of blood flooding his nose.

“And why was Barry stalking you?”

Ed laughed a little disbelievingly.  “Because he wants to fucking marry me.”

“And he didn’t like you being intimate with Roy?”

“He didn’t like me being intimate with anyone else.  I mean, we fucked—me and Barry, but me and Roy too, I guess—but it was never anything else than what it was, you know?”

“I see.”  Out of the corner of his eye, Ed caught Maes turn to glance at him.  “Do you know why Barry chose tonight to take issue?”

“Fuck if I know!  I mean, me and Roy have left plenty of times together, but…”  A sinking sensation began to settle in the pit of his stomach, and he curled up the way he did in Roy’s car, knees drawn to his chest, feet on the dash.  “Oh, fuck.”

“Feet off the dash, please,” he said, voice pleasant.  “Put them in the seat for all I care, but not the dash.”  Ed glared over at him, but took them down and curled up.  “Do you have any clue at all?”

“Roy’s a good customer.  I know he’ll pay.  I don’t demand it up front anymore.  And before…”  He ran his fingers through his ponytail.  “Fuck.  Some dude was being creepy and wouldn’t leave Roy alone in Dionysus, so I went up to Roy and told the guy to fuck off because we were together.”

“So.”  Maes’s voice was thoughtful, and it made almost Ed frantic.  He wanted to scream, to ask how he could be so calm when Roy was—  “Your stalker saw you claim a relationship with Roy, and didn’t see any exchange of money for services, but saw you two leave together.  Then he attacked?”

“With the knife, yeah,” Ed replied hoarsely.

“And after he injured Roy, what happened then?”

“Roy… Roy tried to wrestle him away, he’s built, but he had been stabbed, and he was bleeding—fuck, I’ve never seen so much blood—and then I tackled Barry and grabbed the knife and—“

He took a deep shaky breath, and Maes spoke up again, voice gentle.  “And?”

“And I did it,” Ed choked out, voice breaking.  “I stabbed him, and then I hit him with a rock.”  He turned over to look at Maes.  He couldn’t breathe, not with the panic settling in his chest, and he knew that Maes could see how completely petrified he was.  “I don’t wanna go to jail.  I can’t.  They’ll rape me again and my brother will have to drop out of school and Roy might die while I’m in there—“  With a strangled noise of terror and a sickening realization, he began to frantically shove his hands in his pockets.

“Ed,” Maes cut off, voice calm.  “There are cameras outside the club, and it’s obvious you did it in defense, and you saved Roy’s life.  I can promise you that you won’t get arrested.  What’s the matter?”

Ed let out a bark of laughter.  Was this guy fucking serious?  “Okay, first of all, if the fucking cameras are working I’d be surprised because we make a fucking mint giving blow jobs back there, and second of all, he’s probably got some meth on him too.  Fuck.”  Ed took a deep breath.  “They’re gonna find it.”

“Ed, I need you to calm down.  I will take care of everything, okay?  You don’t have to worry about either of you two getting arrested.”

Ed looked over, pleading.  “You think we can get to it before they find it?”

“They’ve already found it, but I promise you it won’t be a problem.”

Ed felt himself relax as the words penetrated his fog of panic.  “You’ve got people in the EMTs.”

“Something like that, yes.”

Ed nodded, relieved, then… sank a bit like a deflated balloon.

“You okay?”

“Am I gonna have to go to court?” he mumbled, sick at the thought.

“No, Ed.  You won’t be going to court.  There won’t be any charges against you at all.”

“Okay.”  But the words sat strangely with him, and he glanced over, frowning slightly.

“Something else?”

“You talk weird.”  Suspicion began to worm its way into Ed’s gut, now that the sheer terror had mostly passed.

Maes laughed.  “I was friends with Roy for a long time.”

“You don’t talk like him.”

“I’m sure some of it rubbed off.”

“He doesn’t talk weird like you do.”

“How do I talk?”

“Formal and shit.”  He squinted at Maes some more, then his eyes widened in anxiety.  “Fuck.  You’re one of Bradley’s lawyers, aren’t you?”

Maes laughed a little at that.  “No, I could never be a lawyer.  And I could never work for Bradley.”

“Yeah, well, your boyfriend does it,” Ed snapped, scowling.

“He’s not my boyfriend.  I’m happily married with a daughter and another child on the way, and Roy…”  Maes sighed.  “His life decisions are none of my business.”

What a judgmental fucking prick.  “Yeah, well, he was, wasn’t he?”

“It was a… complicated relationship.”

“Whatever.”

“Ed, I’m not gay, or bisexual, or… anything else.  If I could be attracted to a man, it would be Roy.  It just didn’t work out.”

Ed snorted, sulking, though at this point he wasn’t sure if it was the thought that Maes had dated Roy, or the thought that he had decided Roy wasn’t _good enough._  “Don’t fuckin’ care unless you have a fifty.”

“I’m… sorry?”

Ed just shook his head, crossing his arms and glaring out the window.  Fuck, like he needed the extra stress.

They rode in silence for a few moments, then Maes spoke up.  “Roy… is my daughter’s godfather.”  He turned into the hospital’s parking lot, driving up and down in his search for a parking spot.  “He’s good friends with my wife, and we only dated for a few months.  This was over five years ago.  And I know he likes you.”

Ed snorted.  “Yeah, he likes having his dick sucked.  I’m a professional.”

“He talks about you a lot.  Positive things.  Non-sexual.  Take that as you will.”  Finally turning into a parking spot, he turned off the car as Ed processed this new and shocking information.  “Let’s go find Roy.”

At that, Ed practically leaped out of the car, not caring about the blood on his hands or bare chest, and bolted inside.

—

When Maes finally showed up, he found Ed arguing with a receptionist—“ _Roy, no I don’t know a last name but he was stabbed in the fucking stomach and has black hair and tattoos_ ”—and handed her a card.  Ed didn’t catch sight of it, but she buzzed them up, so who fucking cared.

Ed tripped to a halt when he saw cop guards outside his room, immediately turning to walk right back into the elevator.

Maes, however, grabbed his hand—fuck, obnoxious people ended up friends together, didn’t they—and tugged him towards them.  “C’mon.”

Ed tried to yank his hand away.  “Are you fucking kidding?  I know that cop!  He’ll recognize me!”

“You’re with me.”  Despite himself, Ed couldn’t help but think how _trustworthy_ Maes sounded.  “It’s okay.  I promise.”  Still, Ed had heard trustworthy before, and he wasn’t buying it.  But Roy was behind that door.

“Do you want to see Roy or not?”

“I’m fucking coming,” he grumbled, but glared at the cop whose dick he had sucked a couple months ago to get out of being busted as he walked buy.  The cop blushed.  Good.

The room was empty.

“What the—“

“He’s still in surgery, but we can wait in here.  No one will bother you, and you can use the shower.”

Ed glanced down at his bare chest, covered in blood, and his ripped jeans, showing more skin than they covered—no wonder the receptionist had looked at him like he had grown two extra heads.  “I don’t have any clothes.”

“I’m sure some of the hospital staff have some spare clothes, or a lost and found.”

“I’m not wearing one of those stupid fucking nightgowns.  I’ve been covered in worse.”  Though his biology and chemistry classes had been _fun_ , he had gotten up to… well, quite a bit.

Maes stepped out, and a few minutes later, came back with a set of small scrubs.  Ed glared at them.  “It’s like they’re for a fucking kid,” he muttered.  “These had better fit.”  He sighed, holding out his hands, but Maes pointed to the shower.

“Go get cleaned up before you put your new clothes on.”

Ed rolled his eyes, slippery fingers struggling with the button on his tight jeans.  Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he winced.  The smeared eyeliner and blood left him looking completely wrecked.  When he turned back, sliding the jeans down, he saw that Maes had pulled out his phone.

Ed crossed his arms over his chest and glared.  “Hey!  No fuckin’ pictures!”

Maes sighed and turned the phone around.  The call screen.  “No, really.  Incredibly straight.”

“Half the guys try to make a few extra bucks. With porn.”

“You know, if you would strip in the bathroom, this wouldn’t be a concern.”

Ed blinked at that, the notion of privacy a foreign one at this point.  He had been knocked around too many times for trying to get privacy when changing, but this guy wasn’t a john.  Yeah, he guessed that make sense.  Still, he scowled.  “Who are you fuckin’ calling?”

“Someone who can help Roy.”

Ed glared, but whatever.  With a huff, he turned to head into the bathroom.


	6. Chapter 6

When Ed got out, Roy was laying in the hospital bed, bandaged all to hell but very much alive.

Ed staggered out in his scrubs, gasping, as the doctor spoke.

“The knife nicked an artery and his stomach.  We stapled it shut, but he’s going to be on a soup and smoothie diet for a couple of weeks, and he can’t do anything strenuous.”  She turned to Ed, who froze.  “You’re the one who kept pressure on the wound?”

Ed swallowed, nodding, and the doctor smiled faintly.  She was pretty, with a kind smile, dark hair, and a small mole under her left eye.  “You saved his life.  Without that, his stomach acid would have dissolved his internal organs.”

Ed knew that he was most likely incredibly pale underneath his skin tone.  “He wouldn’t have fucking been stabbed if it weren’t for me.”

Maes sighed, reaching out to place a hand gently on Ed’s shoulder.  Ed forced himself not to flinch.  “You saved his life.  I don’t think he would blame you.  I certainly don’t.”

“I fuckin’ would,” Ed muttered hoarsely.

Maes just shook his head and thanked the doctor.  After she left, he turned to Ed.  “I have to head back.  You have Roy’s phone?”

“Yeah, why?”  Ed squinted over at him.

“Call me when he wakes up.  You can use his card to buy food.  I’ll have them bring in another bed, if you’d like.”

Ed straightened for a moment, hope blooming in his chest… but then sagged, distraught once again.  “I… I can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

Ed glanced up at Maes, but he couldn’t stand to see that disappointment, so he looked away.  “Got somewhere I gotta get back to.”  He winced at the thought.  “Fuck.  I still gotta work.”

Maes sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs, looking over at Ed seriously.  “Hey, listen to me, Ed.  You don’t have to go back.”

Ed sighed, rolling his eyes.  “Yeah, whatever.  Look, can I get a ride back to Dionysus?  My pants aren’t too bloody.  I’ll just go shirtless.”

Maes shook his head.  “You don’t… listen.”  He sighed.  “Roy and I have talked a lot, and he mentioned you.  He wanted to help, but he couldn’t, and… I have the resources to get you out.”

Ed gaped at Maes for a moment, processing the words, then scowled, snatching up his pants and heading towards the door.  “Never fucking mind.  I’ll walk.”

Maes darted for the door, leaning a hand into it to keep Ed from opening it.  “Ed, please.  I can’t stay.  Roy shouldn’t have to wake up alone.”

Ed flinched at that, then whirled and jabbed a finger into Maes’s chest.  “Do you fucking know what will happen to me if I go back tomorrow morning without any cash?  Do you?  Because I really don’t think you do.  Look, he’s your friend.  I’m fucking sorry, but I _cannot_ stay, so step the fuck off with the damn guilt trip.”

Maes kept his voice calm.  “I’m trying to give you a way out.”

The words left Ed panicking again.  He swallowed it down.  Yes, yes, he _wanted_ , but Kimblee—and _Al_.

“Fine, you want me to stay?  Pay for it.”

Maes drew back slightly.  “Are you just… dying to go back to your pimp?”

“None of your fucking business,” Ed snarled, breathing heavily in his fury.

“Listen, I’m trying to help you get out.  No strings attached.”

“Yeah, like I’ve never heard that before!”

“Just stay tonight.  You can think about it tomorrow and talk it over with Roy.”

Ed paused, sizing Maes up, trying to get a read on him.

“Six hundred.”

Maes threw up his hands, exasperated.  “Take it off Roy.”

“I’m not gonna rob Roy,” Ed snapped, narrowing his eyes.

“He was planning on paying you tonight anyway, wasn’t he?”

“For sex!”

“You’re still providing him a service.”

“Not one that we agreed on.  I’m not gonna fucking ask him for charity when he wakes up.”

“If it helps you avoid getting hurt, I’m sure Roy wouldn’t mind—

Ed bristled.  “I already told you no!”  What a fucking condescending—what, did he think that Roy just gave out money because he felt _sorry_ for Ed?  He might as well have fucking patted Ed on the head!

“Ed, I have a daughter, another kid, and a wife to take care of.  If I had an extra six hundred, I’d give it to you.  If you want to stay, you can take the money from Roy, but if you don’t, I suppose you’ll have to leave, since you insist.”

Ed scoffed, then headed out the door.  Maes followed.

”Do you want a ride back?  It’s a long walk.”

Ed caught sight of Maes shooting a tired look back in Roy’s direction, but only barely.  Ed shook his head, though whether it was to clear it or to Maes’s question, he wasn’t quite sure.  Right now, he was assessing his situation: it had to be two, three in the morning already, and he hadn’t made _anything_ tonight.  His odds of making Kimblee’s required amount were not very good.

…He might be able to sell his drugs, but the thought left him dizzy.

Still, so did the thought of what would happen if he walked through that door without any cash, and he yanked his fingers through his hair.  “I’ll pick someone up along the way,” he finally snapped.

“I don’t think Roy would like me just letting you do that.  I don’t mind giving you a ride.”

Ed shook his head, trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts and fears, but the more he tried, the more they seemed to escape him.  “I get the impression you don’t like me very much.”

“I like you fine.  I think you’re stubborn as hell, but I can respect that.”  He sighed.  “I’d just like to avoid you getting hit by a random car.”

Ed scoffed bitterly, and he didn’t manage to stop his next words.  “That makes one of us.  But fine.  Whatever.”

Though Maes continued to follow, he didn’t say anything else as Ed headed towards the door.  Ed tried to breathe properly as he got closer, shaking again—hell, he had been attacked, Roy had almost died, and the cops and Maes and Kimblee and—

When he slid into Maes’s passenger seat once again, the smell of blood still faint in his nose, he glanced over to see Maes looking up at the top floor, a forlorn expression on his face.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“Huh?”  Maes glanced over, as if suddenly just noticing Ed had gotten in the car.  “Oh, sorry.  Just thinking.”

“Well, duh.  About what?”

“Roy.”  Maes sighed.  “Elicia is terrified of hospitals.  She hates needles and things, and I don’t think I could bring her in.  She panics.  I’m just…”  He shook his head, forlorn demeanor shifting into something jarringly cheerful.  “Nevermind.  I’ll figure something out.”

Ed clenched his jeans tightly in his hands, then snarled, “Fine!”

Maes began backing up.  “I’m sorry?  Seatbelts, please.”

Before the car could speed up any more, Ed yanked the door handle.  “Stop.  I’ll fucking stay, okay?”

Maes smiled gently at him, and Ed _knew_ that the rest of it hadn’t been a fucking guilt trip.  No, Ed was just a sap.  “Roy wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.  I’ll figure something out.”

“Whatever.”  Ed stepped out of the car.  “If I’m dead in two days, you get to explain to him why.”  Now, that, _that_ was a guilt trip.

“Ed, please.  I’m sorry, but if it’s that serious you don’t need to stay.”

Ed slammed the door shut, walking quickly towards the hospital doors.

He heard Maes park the car again, this time in the middle of the lot, and run after him.  “What are you doing?  You just said you’d get in trouble!”

“Yeah, well, shit happens.”

“Listen!”  Maes jogged up alongside him.  “Roy waking up alone is not important compared to your non-beaten-the-shit-out-of-ness.  I’m sorry I was a jackass.”

“I give really good head.  I’ll get out of it.”

“Roy would be pissed if you risked getting in trouble so you could watch him sleep,” Maes insisted.  “He’ll be fine.”

“Can’t hear you.  Sirens must have damaged my ears.”

“And apparently you’re going to get a lot more damaged if you don’t go back.  Roy would kill me, and then he would be arrested for murder.”

“He’s too smart.  He’d get away with it.”

“Please, Ed.  Just… leave it.  They said he’d be out most of the day anyway.”

Ed sighed, pausing for a moment, then shook his head, walking inside and punching the button on the elevator.  No one gave him a second look.  These scrubs were at least good for something.

When he turned, he saw Maes heading towards him, but Ed mashed the “Door Close” button and was rewarded with the brief sight of Maes lunging forward, trying to reach Ed, but the doors shut and the elevator jerked upwards too quickly.

—

When Maes finally made it to Roy’s room, one of the staff was rolling in a second bed for Ed.

“Hey, Ed,” he said quietly, and Ed glanced over in acknowledgement.  “Um.  You really staying?”

“Yes.”

Maes sighed.  “Do you want me to… you know what, I’ll have some food ordered, and you can think about some life decisions tomorrow.”

“Yeah, nice try.  If Roy couldn’t, you can’t.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in a better position to help you than Roy is.”

“And why’s that?”

“Various life decisions.  I told you, they’re important.”

“Because he’s a drug dealer and you’re, what, richer somehow?  One of you is rich enough to give away meth and blow six hundred a night on hookers, and it isn’t you.”

“No, but I have more connections than Roy does.”

Ed snorted.  Who the fuck did this guy think he was?  “Please.  I don’t know which boss you work for, but do you know how good Roy’s gotten in with King Bradley?  Really fucking tight.”

“Kimblee works for Bradley.  Bradley won’t protect you.  I can.”

Ed unballed his pants.  “You got a straw?”

“Uh, no, but I think the cafeteria might.”  Still, Ed didn’t miss the disapproving look Maes leveled at him.

“Listen, the cops aren’t arresting you for prostitution or possession, but please don’t do drugs in Roy’s hospital room.”

That only confirmed Ed’s suspicions: they had to be dirty, the police outside Maes’s door.  Now Ed just didn’t know _who_ Maes was working for.

“Well, what about outside?” he asked blandly.

“I’d really prefer it if you weren’t high at all, honestly.”

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer to have a million bucks and a castle.”

Maes sighed heavily.  “I can’t stop you, but you’ll have to get your own straw.”  He leveled a hard look at Ed.  “Just make sure you’re sober enough to take care of Roy when he wakes up.”

“Aren’t there doctors for that?” Ed grumbled, petulant mostly because he wanted to piss Maes off, not because he didn’t want to help Roy.

“To get him water, and sit with him, and tell him what happened, because he still doesn’t know.”  Maes shrugged, looking suspiciously casual.  “But the least you could do for him is be sober.”

Though the tone was pleasant enough, Ed heard the unspoken words.   _After getting him stabbed._

Ed glared at Maes like he wanted to _do_ the stabbing.

“The choice is yours.  You’re a grown man.”

“I’m already fucking staying,” Ed snarled, wondering how the fuck Roy had become friends with a guy like _this._  When a drug dealer was the nicer person, you should probably reconsider your life choices.  “Lay off the asshole dad routine.”

Maes leveled a cold, hard look at Ed.  “I’m not trying to be an asshole.  I’m trying to take care of my friend.”

At that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Ed watched him go, then turned to Roy, expression softening into one of concern.  He reached out to touch his hand gently, wondering if the bed was big enough to crawl in beside him.

Admittedly, that was a fucking terrible idea.  He had no idea what would happen if he jostled Roy, but it couldn’t be good.  Still, he held onto the thought.  Feeling this lousy, he felt he was just a little entitled to silly thoughts.

Instead, he pushed the bed they had brought him against Roy’s and curled up in it, reaching out to take Roy’s hand, curling around as much of his arm as he could reach.

Why the fuck had he decided tonight would be a good night to be sober?  The drugs were right there, under the chair by the window…

But he was too tired to move.

Still, he wished it didn’t take him forever to fall asleep.  But when he crashed, he crashed hard.

—

Ed woke up still holding Roy’s hand.

He groaned softly, grumbling and tugging it closer.

“Hey, Angel.  Feeling better?”

At the voice, Ed gasped, eyes flying open, and sat up, dropping the hand.  Roy, tired but alive, had been propped up slightly in the bed and was reading a magazine one-handed.

Ed did his best to recover and snorted.  “Me?  I feel fuckin’ terrible.  How the fuck are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly well, considering my current perforated state.”

“Well, good.”  Ed scowled, but only to hide the giddy, beaming smile that was struggling to get out.  “Be pissed if you were dying.”

“I gather that I was in danger of it last night?”

“Well, fuckin’ yeah!  You got stabbed in the fucking stomach!”

“So I heard.  I _also_ heard that you saved my life, according to Doctor Ross.”  He reached out, taking Ed’s hand again, and squeezed.  “I knew I called you Angel for a reason.”

Ed could feel himself heating up.  Fuck, it was too early for this.  Probably.  The past however fucking long it had been was fuzzy, not leaving him with a real sense of time that had passed, but the wan winter light filtered into the sterile hospital room, and if the sun was up, Ed should not be.  “I’m the one who almost got you killed.”

“That was Barry.”

Ed shook his head, pulling his hand away, feeling sick.  “He attacked you because of me.”

“Well, out of anyone, I’m glad it was me.”

“I’m not!” Ed burst out.  God, what the fuck was wrong with this man?  “It has fucking nothing to do with you!”

“I have friends who can help me out.  It ended up all right.”

“Still, I fucking got you stabbed and your friends hate me for it.”

Roy blinked slowly at that, confused.  “Who?”

“Maes.  You know, the one you’re in love with?” he snapped… then winced.  He had been so angry last night about the low blows, and now he had delivered one himself.  To someone who hadn’t deserved it.  Besides, he was only a hustler.  He had no right to let it bother him so much.

Roy shook his head slowly.  “I was, but not anymore.”

Ed tried to shove away the tentative hope at those words.  “Yeah, well, still pretty sure he blames me.”

“Why?  He’s not that kind of guy.”

“Said it.  Or might as well have.”

Roy ran his thumb over the back of Ed’s hand.  “He was probably just upset, Ed.”

Ed shrugged, looking away.  He felt like he had failed some crucial “best friend” test, which was stupid, because who cared if a best friend approved of a prostitute you hired.  That was reserved for—

Ed didn’t dare allow himself to finish the thought, instead sliding back down to bury his face in his pillow.  At least it smelled clean.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a clean pillow.

Roy chuckled beside him.  “Hungry?”

“Fucked.”

“Oh?”

“I gotta get back.”  The pillow muffled his voice, and he thought of the reception he’d be facing at the stable.  The thought left him ill.

Roy squeezed his hand.  “Thank you for staying.  Take your money.  It’s still in my wallet.”

Ed turned his head, looking pained.  “But I didn’t do anything.”

“You did.  You stayed with me.”  Roy smiled wryly at Ed.  “Sorry I couldn’t make you breakfast.”

Ed picked up the pillow, covering his face with it.  “Not your fault.”

“Not yours, either.”  He squeezed Ed’s hand.  “Just Barry’s.”

Ed didn’t respond, just lay there, enjoying the feel of Roy’s hand in his and ignoring what he knew would come next.

“Hey, Angel.  Talk to me.”

“’Bout what.”

“What’s bothering you?”

Ed let out a hoarse, muffled laugh.  A better question would have been _what isn’t?_  “Lotta shit.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Ed sighed, curling around his pillow.  “I thought I was gonna go to jail.”

Roy reached out, petting Ed’s hair gently, and Ed leaned into it, eyes closing slightly.  “Why?  You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Stabbed Barry, solicitation, possession… that cop out there’s busted me before, you know.”  He paused.  “There are cops out there, by the way.”

Roy waved his free hand.  “I know.  Maes has connections.  But you won’t be in trouble.  Barry is going to jail, and they know it was self-defense.”

Ed huffed, tugging away.  Just for a few moments.  To prove a point.  Then he went right back to letting Roy pet his hair.  “Still freaked me the fuck out, okay?”

“I know.”  Roy tucked a strand of Ed’s hair behind his ear.  “Worried about going back, too?”

Ed took a deep breath, then forced a smile on his face.  “Yeah.  I’ll be okay, though.  You know how good my blow jobs are.”

“Well, taking some back will help, right?”  Roy’s eyes searched Ed’s, nothing but sincerity in them.

“Blow jobs?”

“Money, Ed.”

“Oh.”  He grimaced slightly.  “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

“So if you take the six hundred plus what you’re owed, will that help?  If you need more, I understand.”  He reached out to squeeze Ed’s hand.  “You saved my life.  The least I can do is make sure that you don’t get in trouble for it.”

“Roy,” Ed burst out impatiently, trying to let Roy hold his hand, but just so _antsy_ about it.  “You didn’t get to fuck me at all.”

“That’s fine.  You saved my life, so I’m sure I don’t mind pretending.”

“I don’t—that’s not what I mean!  I don’t need pity cash!”

Roy sighed, and Ed wished that that fondly exasperated look wasn’t so endearing.  “It’s not pity cash.  It’s ‘thanks for keeping me from bleeding out and letting my internal organs dissolve’ cash.”

Ed made a frustrated noise, having to look away before he started smiling.  “You’re just giving it to me because I need it.”

“I’m not.  I’m giving it to you because I don’t believe that you deserve to get in trouble for saving my life.  And, if you feel that strongly, consider it a deposit.  You can make it up to me later.”

Ed sighed, rubbing his palms on his eyes.  “Yeah.  Okay.  Fucking fine.”  If he went back emptyhanded, Al might suffer for it, too.

“Do you need to go?”

“Might as well stay a little longer,” he muttered.

It wasn’t fair, the things Roy’s smile did to Ed.  “Yeah.  Just let me know how much I owe you.”

“I will.”

They lay there for a while, Roy’s thumb still stroking Ed’s hand… until Ed’s stomach growled.

Roy laughed a little, and Ed glared.  “Angel, please.  Take my card and go get something to eat.  And would you get me a smoothie, while you’re out?”

Sitting up immediately—he had been starving for god knew how long, but he wasn’t going to _ask_ to impose on Roy—he snatched the wallet up, grabbed the card, and darted out.

The Subway staff seemed to think that Ed was a doctor getting off a long shift, so they got him all the food he asked for quickly—so the scrubs and mussed bedhead were good for something—and he snagged a coconut-pineapple smoothie for Roy on his way back.

—

Ed finally got back at two o’clock in the afternoon.  After the lunch hour.

Kimblee was _not_ pleased.

It was going to be hell to explain the bruises to Roy, and after how awful the multiple clients—at the same time—Kimblee had lined up for him had been, Ed couldn’t figure out why the fuck that was his biggest concern out of everything.  Given Kimblee’s reaction to Ed’s tardiness, Ed had a feeling that anything he set up for Ed for a while would be something to grit his teeth and hang on until Kimblee got over his tantrum.

The next time he visited Roy, he took the meth.  In fact, he hadn’t been sober since before he walked in Kimblee’s door after the stabbing.  Everything was fine that way.  Everything was wonderful.

When he walked up to the closed door, he could hear Maes behind it.  The words weren’t entirely clear, but Ed did catch a little bit, Roy saying that he didn’t want to go, Maes begging him to leave.

Ed snorted.   _No one_ was making Roy leave the hospital on his watch!  He reached over and pushed the door open, and the two went immediately quiet.  Ed smiled at the both of them innocently.

Maes only shot him a look before turning and walking out of the room.

“Hey, Angel,” Roy murmured softly, scooting over a little.  “Come lay with me?”

Ed did, crawling over into the space beside him, giggling and euphoric.  God, he loved being around Roy.  He loved how _happy_ it made him.

Roy had ordered dinner, too.

A week and a half in the hospital.  Ed visited when he could, smiling every time, and worked when he couldn’t, sinking further and further into chemical bliss.  He didn’t see any more of Maes.

He did, however, see more and more of Kimblee, and more of the clients that he started lining up for him, all more demanding—but better paying—than the last.

And he did increase the amount he took, in his hits.  Because he was developing a tolerance, he told himself.

It would be fine.


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks later, Roy found himself back at Dionysus.

The stitches still hurt, sometimes, but they had sent him off with a generous dose of painkillers that he had privately sworn to not tell Ed he had.  True, they weren’t Ed’s usual fare, but…

You never knew.

Roy didn’t blame him, for showing up at the hospital high, for getting high at all, but he…

He hated seeing him in that position.

Roy settled down in his usual spot, making a couple of sales from a few people who seemed thrilled to see him back.  Relieved, even.  It just left Roy with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The stabbing had caused quite a thread of contention among the organized criminal underworld.  Sirens, even those belonging to ambulances, swarming on Dionysus was an unusual enough occurrence that everyone seemed to have reacted before knowing the true situation.  Roy had returned to find that, while he had been bedridden, Bradley had accused a rival gang of organizing the attempted murder of one of his best distributors, prompting him to take the war to them.  Roy had found out about the misconception after five days in the hospital, but after calling Bradley, the man had ordered him, in no uncertain terms, to keep quiet about the truth to the story.  After all, the gang had been nearly wiped out already; no need to undo all of that progress over a miscommunication.  Bradley would likely be less inclined to use him as fodder for revenge if he knew how much Roy had skimmed to continue paying for Ed's services, but Roy knew the operation far too well to be caught.

Two days later, Bradley had his new territory, and Roy had his work cut out for him.  He had spent years cleaning up after massacres like this, anywhere from revenge to territorial disputes to the latter disguised as the former.  He needed to not think about the bullet-ridden bodies that had been left on display in public areas as a message, needed to not think about the mutilation, of missing fingers and toes and arms and heads that detectives would have to gather up, ponder over pictures during their already overflowing schedule, attempt to find witnesses that never materialized, and then file away in an eternally growing cabinet of “cold cases.”  He needed to focus on the mission at hand, forget, for now, what it was like to be on the other side.  He needed not to get killed.

He needed… a distraction.

A flash of golden hair, colored lights reflecting off of it, caught his attention, and Ed sauntered up.

“Heya, gorgeous.  Missed you.”  Without an invitation, Ed crawled up into his lap, careful of the stitches.  Roy didn’t mind so much.

Roy reached up to take his face, getting a good look at his eyes.  He was totally blitzed, his eyes a little bloodshot.  He sighed.   _Why_ , he wanted to ask.  Why are you doing this to yourself, why are you slipping further and further into a pit where I can’t save you?

“Hey, Angel,” he murmured.  “Glad to be back.”

The kiss Ed pressed against his lips was a little sloppy.  “What’re you up to?”

He ran his hand gently down Ed’s back.  “Enjoying the music.  Watching the people.”  Glancing over his shoulder, he took in the sight of the dancing, a picture of false bliss.  Something he was quickly growing more and more familiar with.

Ed chuckled, leaning in to press his forehead against Roy’s, and Roy looked back, wishing he could see just a speck of gold.  “They’re gonna put me in a sling in a little while, upstairs.  You wanna come?”

Roy frowned slightly, not understanding.  “A sling?”

“Sex sling,” Ed breathed, leaning in to nibble at his ear.

_What?_

Roy froze for a moment, horror creeping in.  From what he understood, from what Ed had told him, and hinted, gang banging was _not_ Ed’s cup of tea.  “You… why?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Ed shrugged, still kissing at Roy’s neck.  “Why not?  Always makes me a lot of money.”

“You like it?” Roy murmured.

Ed laughed, but Roy didn’t miss the bitter edge to it.  “I always love getting fucked.”

“I doubt you like getting fucked like that.  You’ve never seemed interested in any of that stuff before.”

Ed smirked, but the bloodshot eyes completely ruined it for Roy.  “Well, that’s ‘cause you’ve never fucked me like that before.  I’ve been doing it for ages.”

“You’ve never brought it up before.”  Roy knew how _very_ much he didn’t want to go, but leaving Ed alone to have that done to him seemed just as unthinkable.

“You never seemed interested before.”  Ed kissed Roy’s cheek, sliding a hand down the inside of his thigh.  “Speakin’ of which, you got a tip for me…?  I’m all out.”

If Ed had been more sober, Roy would have joked about him only liking Roy for his drugs.  Ed would have joked back that he didn’t like Roy at all.  They both would have laughed, knowing how untrue both statements were.

But for now, Roy just sighed, leaning in to kiss him and handing over a baggie.  “Be careful, all right?”

“Always am,” Ed purred at him, leaning in and taking a hit right there.  When he was finished, he tilted his head back, looking ecstatic.  “God, I’m horny.”

Roy snorted.  “You just did a fuckton of drugs.  Of course you’re horny.”

Ed just giggled, grinding against him.  “Mm, so?  Who cares how I got that way?”

“People who care about consent.”  Roy said it quietly that Ed couldn’t hear him over the music, not with how distracted he seemed to be.  He sighed and looked away.  This… this wasn’t the Ed he wanted.  He had seen the real Ed, sober Ed, almost _been_ with sober Ed, he had thought for a moment…

He wasn’t interested at all.

Ed reached out to run a hand down Roy’s chest, sniffing.  “Hey, gorgeous?  What’s the matter?”

When Roy turned back, the sweet, sincere smile on Ed’s face broke his heart a little more.

“Still a little tired, I think.”  He smiled over at Ed, hoping that he would believe it.

Ed reached out to cup his face, arching an eyebrow.  “I could see if I can fix that.”

Roy took Ed’s wrists gently, pulling them away, trying to smile still, feeling like it might crack his face open.  “I don’t know that you can, Angel.  Just don’t feel like I’m up for much.”

Ed sighed, pouting.  “What, so you’re not even gonna visit upstairs?”

“I don’t know that I’ll be any fun.”  Hoping to placate him, Roy leaned in to kiss his cheek.  “Why do you do this?”

Ed leaned into the kiss.  “I told you, it’s a good way to make money.”

“I meant the drugs,” Roy corrected quietly.  He could see Ed’s smile falter a little.

“What do you mean?”

“You… you’re so smart.  And wonderful, and beautiful.”  And the last bit… it was barely an afterthought.  Roy searched Ed’s face for something, something beyond that vacancy.  “I just don’t understand.”

Ed’s smile faded a little more.  Though Roy could still see it, it had begun to look pained as Ed let out a small chuckle.  He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Roy’s.

“You ever been raped, Roy?” he whispered.

The question felt like another knife, this time to the heart.  He had to struggle a moment to catch his breath, and a nasty thought wormed its way in, leaving him wondering, leaving him _realizing_ how presumptuous he’d been, thinking that he claimed to understand Ed.

“No,” he murmured, rubbing Ed’s back gently.

“Well, I hope you never are.  But if you ever are, I hope to fuckin’ god you’re not sober.”

“You…”  Roy’s hand stilled, and he didn’t move, just let Ed stay there against him.  “You feel that way all the time?”

Ed laughed again, and the combination of airiness and bitterness left Roy’s teeth on edge.  “Fuck no.  I feel great all the time.”  He sniffed again.

“Angel.”  Roy pulled back, tilting his head.  “Your logic doesn’t add up.”

“Why not?”  Perky again, Ed opened his eyes and kissed his nose.

“If you use drugs all the time, and say you use drugs to distance yourself from the rape, but don’t feel like you’re being raped, something else accounts for the drug use.”  Right now, he was too tired to care much that his act was slipping, and he was tempted to finish with, _so you’re full of bullshit._

“I don’t get it.”

“You’re smart enough.”

“I don’t.”  Ed pulled back and shook his head, looking genuinely confused, and Roy briefly closed his eyes.

“You just said that the drugs were a coping mechanism for rapes.”  Roy wasn’t naïve enough to think that Ed hadn’t been, not after everything he had seen.  “But then said that the sex you have isn’t rape.  So then what accounts for the near constant drug use?”

Ed laughed again, but Roy caught an anxious note in it.  “Look, I don’t see why you’re givin’ me the fuckn’ third degree here—“

“This is what your tip is for.  Tell me why you use it.”

“Oh, what, so you’re making it conditional now?”

“You already have it, Ed,” Roy said, suddenly weary, wishing he were back in bed.  “I can’t take it back.  I just—”

Ed grabbed Roy’s shoulders and shoved himself back, snarling, “Because I fuckin’ hate it!”

Roy winced at the intensity of the mood swing, the way Ed yanked on his stitches.  “What?”

Ed scrambled off of Roy’s lap, on his feet in an instant, staggering and glaring and spitting out, “Because.  I fucking.  Hate.  Sex.  You fucking happy?”

“No.”  Roy stood, making sure to keep his posture nonthreatening, lifting his hands.  “Don’t go, upstairs, Ed.”  He swallowed, taking a deep breath, hoping that his next words would stop the crumbling sensation in his chest.  “Walk out right now.  Check yourself into rehab and they can’t touch you, I promise.”

Ed started backing up, shaking his head warily, glaring.  “Step the fuck off.”  When he turned, as if to run away, his feet tangled up in each other, and he tripped, falling flat on his ass.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and seemed to deflate as he curled up, looking confused and scared.

Roy swallowed around the lump in his throat, kneeling a couple of feet away.  “Ed, listen to me.”  His voice didn’t do a very good job of hiding his desperation.  “Please.  You don’t have to do this.”

“But I do.”  Ed’s voice broke.  “I do.  I don’t have a choice.”  Finally, he looked up at Roy—

“There you are, Ed.”

Roy’s breath caught, and he turned, catching sight of the white suit.  His eyes slid up from the trousers, to the jacket, to the cocky face that looked bored.

“You don’t, Ed,” Roy whispered before he stood, positioning himself between Kimblee and Ed.

Kimblee looked mildly annoyed for his trouble, but just walked around.  “Ed.  C’mon.  We’re ready.”

Roy watched Ed get slowly to his feet, looking haunted, and then looked between the two, swallowing.  “How much if I just want to watch?”  He forced a realistic-looking smile onto his face as he looked at Kimblee.  “Got an injury a couple’a weeks ago.”

Ed—went white, looking ill.  Kimblee just shrugged.  “Fifty bucks.”  He turned to Ed, holding up a baggie and straw.  “C’mon.  I got this.”

He turned to go, and Ed followed.  Roy could see him shaking.  He leaned in, whispering, “I’ll be there the whole time, okay?  Just… just try to focus on me instead.”  The thought left him sick, nauseous even, but so did the thought of leaving Ed alone.

Ed shook his head, looking mortified.

“Angel… please.  I’ll make sure they don’t hurt you.”

“I don’t want you to see it,” he whispered, horrified.

“I won’t look.  I’ll look you in the eyes the entire time, okay?”

“No!” Ed yelped, yanking backwards like Roy had just offered to murder his brother.

Kimblee turned, annoyed again.  “Something wrong?”

Roy smiled winningly at him, immediately masking his concern.  He leaned in, gesturing to Ed with one hand, Kimblee’s eyes following.  “I’d like a couple minutes of talk from your boy.  You know, before the show.  Mood setting and all that.”  With a flourish, he presented the two hundred dollar bills he had just pickpocketed from Kimblee.

He accepted with a slight smirk, then opened the baggie and tugged Ed over.  Ed tried to twist away, but only halfheartedly.  Fuck, how much had Ed had?  Was he close to ODing?  Did Kimblee even care?

“No need,” he interrupted smoothly, reaching out to tug Ed back.  “’Til later, at least.  I kinda like ‘em afraid.  Can you hold off a minute?”

Kimblee sighed.  “Make it fast.  Gotta get him ready.”  He turned back to Ed.  “Right back here when you’re done.”

Roy grabbed Ed’s wrist and led him to a private booth, keeping his voice low.

“Ed, please.  I do not want them to hurt you.  I can’t make sure of that if I’m not there.”

Ed shook his head mutely, but didn’t meet his eyes.

“Please, talk to me.  We only have a few minutes.”

“Whatever you want, Roy,” Ed whispered, so quietly that Roy could barely hear it.

“No,” Roy hissed fiercely, head spinning at the complacency.  “No, Ed, this is what you want.  That’s why I’m asking.”  He took a breath.  “I’ll stand by your head, play with your hair, sing goddamn lullabies if that’s what you need.  I just don’t want you to be up there alone.”  Wildly, Roy wondered how much it would take to buy him out of the situation completely—but he didn’t have that kind of cash on hand, and he didn’t have the time to steal more from Bradley.

“But then you’ll see me,” Ed whispers.

“Darling.”  Roy took Ed’s face, tilting it up so he looked Roy in the eyes, keeping his expression dead serious.  “I don’t care about that.  I’d never think less of you for something like that.”

But Ed tugged away from his hands, still shaking his head.

“If you tell me now, I’ll go.  But please, if you think that it would help even a little bit, make you feel safer, please let me be there.”  He tried for a smile.  “And if you want me to shoot every jackass in that room and get you out, just say the word.”

Roy wasn’t kidding.  It scared him, a little, but the seriousness of his offer overwhelmed that.

Ed closed his eyes, and Roy could see the glimmer of tears at the corner of them.  “Please, Roy.  No.”

The words hurt almost as much, Roy thought, as a ‘yes’ would have.  He took a deep breath, then nodded.

“All right, Angel.  But I’m going to wait out here for you, understand?”

Ed smiled crookedly, and this time, Roy could see gratitude in his eyes.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that’s fine.”

He slipped out of the booth, and Roy watched him round the corner, not wanting to watch him vanish into whatever room it might be—

“Ed.  Hey, you’re off your game.  C’mere.”

…But Kimblee’s voice, despite being almost affectionate, didn’t bode well at all.

Roy scooted slightly, turning his head to peer around the corner of his booth.  Kimblee had his arm around Ed’s shoulders, but it looked more like a chokehold than an embrace, especially with the way Ed was trying to squirm away.

“Don’t want any,” he mumbled, turning his head.

“Shhh.  Of course you do.  C’mere.”  In a direct contrast to earlier, the voice was gentle.  Fond.   _Creepy._

“No—“ Ed gasped, still trying to turn away, but Kimblee forced the straw into his nose anyway.

Roy had to grip the seat to keep from rushing them, from tearing them apart, from throwing Kimblee to the ground and taking Ed and running and never seeing any of them again.

Ed sniffed.

Still, even after the deed was done, Ed kept trying to turn away.  Kimblee took his face, leaned in, and kissed him.

The intimacy had Roy nearly throwing up in his mouth a little.  He could see the tongue, the tilted heads, the way he practically _devoured_ Ed, even as Ed tried to struggle out of it.

Even worse was when Ed eventually stopped struggling and started kissing him back.

Kimblee pushed Ed against a wall, then, shoving a knee between Ed’s legs, one of which wrapped around Kimblee’s waist.

When Ed started fumbling for Kimblee’s pants, Roy stood.  He couldn’t watch this anymore.  He had told Angel he would be here, and he would, but right now, he needed some air.

And before that, he needed to vomit again.

—

The lull, at least, gave Roy both time to make a few more sales—despite the distractions, they hadn’t slipped in the slightest, and neither had his other job—as well as arrange the, ah, disappearance of a few more thousand dollars from Bradley’s many ventures.  From several different sources, of course, so it didn’t look _too_ suspicious, and the individuals running them could do with some punishment anyway, if they did end up discovered.

Ed did eventually stumble down the stairs, dull-eyed and listless, Kimblee following, thumbing through a wad of cash.  Roy suppressed his murderous urges and strode over, lifting his chin, expression flinty.

“How much for the rest of the night?”

Ed’s head jerked up, but his eyes were still bloodshot and dilated, and he didn’t seem to be able to focus—or stand straight.  “Roy…?”

He slashed a hand through the air, cutting him off.  He didn’t want Kimblee seeing how much either of them wanted this.  He seemed like the type to say no just for that reason.

They haggled a bit, Roy making the argument that Ed was going to be useless tomorrow anyway, and eventually handed over and got out, a hand on Ed’s back, hating how Ed followed so obediently.

He got back to his apartment without a single exchange of words.  Roy didn’t know what to say.  He hated that it was like this, after… _this_ , that they hadn’t had that evening they had wanted together, which felt like so long ago.

Though Ed tried to walk, slurring and giggling and clearly sleepy, Roy would have none of it.  He scooped him up and carried him inside, ignoring the twinges in his stitches.  Carrying Ed’s tiny frame wasn’t even close to the ‘strenuous work’ the doctors had forbade him.

Ed sat quietly as Roy ran a bath, then as Roy helped him take one, cleaning him off to make sure that he didn’t drown.  As Ed dried, Roy made a sandwich, made Ed eat it as well as drink some water.

When it was finished, he bundled Ed up in a blanket and tucked him into bed.  “Angel?”

But Ed had already fallen asleep.

With a soft, fond smile, Roy changed, slipping into a tank and sweatpants, and slipped into the bed beside him.

The last thing he remembered before drifting off was Ed turning and curling into him.


	8. Chapter 8

**“Angel?”**

The first time Roy woke him, Ed could see that the digital clock read 12:30.  He felt like death.

“Nnn.”  He closed his eyes again, trying to curl back into the warmth of the bed.  Maybe if he just pretended that he didn’t exist today, the aches and pains and memories would leave him alone for once.

“Angel, please.  You need to eat something.”

Of the rare few things that could have gotten Ed to open his eyes again, food was one of them.  Roy helped him sit up a bit, handed him a mug of soup, and helped him sip at it.  After that, he handed Ed a glass of water, and after _that_ , he let Ed get back to sleep.

A few hours later, according to the digital clock, he managed to get up for good.  He didn’t really have the energy to worry about what Kimblee was going to do with it: he spent all of it staggering out of the bedroom into the living room.

The apartment opened into a small, gray-carpeted living room in front of Ed, the kitchen further on down.  The entire place reminded him of a box, with very little wasted space.

Roy glanced up from the couch when he caught sight of Ed, setting down his book.  “There you are, Angel.  Here, come sit down.”  Ed didn’t even have the energy to protest when Roy ushered him over to the couch, but he let out a soft yelp when he sat, pain shooting up his thighs and ass.

“Fuck,” he breathed.  But then again, being sore came with the territory.

Roy returned with a bowl of pasta with some kind of orange sauce and a lot of white cheese.  A bite left Ed gasping, then shoveling the rest into his mouth.

“Fuck, this is good,” he mumbled, suddenly ravenous.

“Thank you.  I really enjoy cooking when I get the chance.”

Ed snorted, continuing to dig in.  “You cook _and_ deal?  Just don’t use?”

“Yep.”  When Roy handed over an entire loaf of garlic bread, Ed wryly wondered if this was love.  “Feeling okay?”

“Better, yeah,” he croaked, smiling crookedly up at Roy despite himself.

“Good.”  He reached out to brush a strand of hair behind Ed’s ear, something Ed had grown fond of, earning himself another faint smile.  “Would you like to watch a movie, perhaps?”

Ed snorted.  “Seriously?  A movie?”

“I could also read to you, but I doubt that would be appreciated.”  As Ed watched, Roy suddenly looked as murderous as he had ever seen him.  “And I’m not sending you back to Kimblee until I absolutely have to.”

Ed huffed.  “I doubt he cares if I come back until tomorrow.  I’m kinda useless right now.”

“I paid for today, at least.  So you don’t have to worry about that.  At this rate, Bradley himself will have to make me send you back.”

Ed shivered.  How could someone make something so casual sound so dangerous?  But… better not to think about that.  “What movies you got?”

“Whatever is on pay-per-view or Netflix.”

“Never had Netflix.”

“We’ll look on there.  Want to bring your blankets?”  Roy smirked, and Ed rolled his eyes.  “I have ice cream, too.”

“Sure,” Ed muttered, standing to get the blankets, but Roy placed a hand on his shoulder, having him sit again.

Two blankets, a tub of ice cream, and a spoon later, Roy had the remote in hand and was scrolling through a movie collection bigger than Ed had ever seen.

(When Roy eventually settled on the new Star Trek, which Ed _still_ hadn’t seen, he allowed himself a smile.)

—

“So Gary Mitchell finally got his own movie, huh?” Ed murmured, smiling at the screen.  “Gotta say, I liked the first one, but this one was even better.”

“I enjoyed it too.”

Ed lapsed into silence again, staring blankly at the credits scrolling by, jiggling his foot.  Roy stood.  “Want some more water?”

“Sure.”  He didn’t look up.

“You okay, Ed?”

“Dandy.”

“You don’t seem that great.”

Ed sighed, glancing over at Roy, knowing how fruitless his request would be, but…  “Could use a… cigarette.”

“That’s okay.  Do you mind stepping onto the porch?”

“I don’t have one.”

Ed watched, flabbergasted, as Roy pulled a pack from his pocket.  “I got these from Kimblee last night.  They your brand?”

“The fuck kinda snob has a brand?” Ed asked, reaching for them eagerly.

Roy handed him a lighter and followed as Ed trotted out, still wincing with every movement.  Still, he’d had worse.

“So.”  Ed breathed some smoke out over the street.  “You stole these?”

“From Kimblee.”  Neither of them looked at the other.

“Why?  And when?”

“When we were talking.  I also put a piece of chewed gum in his pocket.”

Ed let out a bark of laughter at that.  “Yeah, but _why?_  You don’t smoke.”

“No, but I figured you would get in trouble if any money was missing and, well, now he’ll have to buy another pack of cigarettes, and you have yours.”

Ed snorted.  God, Roy could be the pettiest fucking bastard sometimes.  Why was that so attractive?  “Should have taken the money.  I don’t even smoke that much.”

Roy shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Was worried he’d take it out on you.  I did get the two hundred from him, that I paid.”

Ed choked on the smoke laughing at that.  “And I didn’t even get a fuck out of it,” he gasped, waving away the smoke.  “Pity.”

“Even if I were up for it, you’ve been asleep all day.”

“I meant last night.”

“I still wasn’t up for it.”  Roy sighed, shifting back and forth.  “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable last night.”

Ed waved his hand.  Honestly, he tried to pretend last night, and the ones like it, had never happened.  Just like most other nights.  Except the ones he spent with Roy.  “Don’t care.”

Roy simply sighed, turning back to watch the street.

They stayed in silence for a while, for once, not knowing what to say.  Ed couldn’t summon the energy to care around the numbness that had settled over him.  He couldn’t even say that he was upset anymore, even sober.  He just… he’d been pushed so far that he managed to push it all away and just not give a fuck.

It was a kind of happiness, anyway.  Or at least a kind of not self-loathing.

The rest of the day was spent similarly, and Ed… Ed thought he might have been able to get used to it.  Not that it had ever been in the cards for him, but he could have.

“Would you like to stay again tonight?”

Ed sighed, glancing out the window at the moon.  The idea of staying, yes, was wonderful, but knowing that it meant he’d have to get up in the morning… less so.  “Might as well.”

God, how un fucking fair was it, that Roy’s smile could light up his face like that?  “Are you all right with sleeping together?   _Just_ sleeping, of course.”

Ed felt the easy grin slide onto his face, the hip cock automatically, his body moving on autopilot as his mind sat back and watched numbly.  “Can do more than that if you want.”

Roy eyed Ed, a little indulgently, a little exasperated.  “I still have a relatively unhealed stab wound.”

“Fine, fine.”  Ed dropped the demeanor, wondering why doing so left him feeling so… light.  So free.  Almost _happy._  Pushing away the thoughts and refusing to think on it further, he headed into the bedroom.

“Already ready to sleep again?” Roy asked, teasing lightly, but he followed.

“Always,” Ed half-laughed.  Fuck, if he could sleep forever, that would be ideal, wouldn’t it?  Especially if Roy were beside him.  Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of this… shit.  He hopped into the bed.

Roy crawled in beside him, reaching out hesitantly, fingers brushing against Ed’s arms.  “May I?”

Ed nodded, and within moments, he found himself a very thoroughly embraced little spoon.  Still, he didn’t have the heart to refuse.  Grabbing another pillow and koalaing around it, he closed his eyes, asleep within minutes.

The next morning, he slipped out of the embrace quietly, brushing a kiss against the sleeping Roy’s cheek before he crept out the door.

He didn’t know then that he wouldn’t see Roy again for another month.


	9. Chapter 9

Roy was getting too damn old for this.

With his recovery going stupendously but still a concern, Bradley had moved him from simple street corner distribution to coordination.  Instead of actively selling the drugs, he oversaw moving the product as well as continued to contribute to strategies for distribution.  He found himself to be distressingly good at it, but had to shove away the gnawing guilt that _he_ was now responsible for importing mass quantities of life-destroying substances into the city and facilitating a crime lord’s grip on it.

While this provided Roy with a neat map of Bradley’s activities, everything his investigation could have asked for, it also meant that Roy had less time on the streets.  Once he had learned how to look, he had sometimes been able to catch a glimpse of gold hair and leather pants in the right areas of town; even if Ed was too busy to see Roy, Roy had always been able to reassure himself that Ed was alive.

But lately—for an entire fucking _month_ —he hadn’t caught even the slightest whiff of Ed.  He couldn’t let the worry distract him, destroy him, eat at his mind.  He had to continue his work and continue to assure himself that _Ed was alive._

Still, putting in required appearances at Dionysus to lean on the railing over the dance floor and look intimidating as one of Bradley’s “inner circle,” the heavy bass pounding unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach, felt like such a goddamn waste of time.

“Hey, gorgeous,” a voice purred.  “Is that a gun in your pocket or—oh, no, right, you carry in here now, don’t you?”

—

Roy jumped, eyes wide, as he whirled to face Ed, who stood on his tiptoes to kiss his jaw.  He laughed, a little helplessly, and held him tightly.  “Where have you fucking been?  I thought you were dead!”

The look Roy gave him, one of desperation and fear and relief, did leave a little niggling sensation of guilt in Ed’s chest.  Still, he relaxed a little, offering Roy a brief smile before it faded.  Being around Roy left him content, yes, but he was also pretty sure the both of them had seen enough of the forced, vacant grins the drugs left him with.

“Not dead,” he murmured, shrugging, trying to push away that guilt.  “Fucking.  Had the flu for a bit, which put me behind, so tried some new places, seeing if I could get some new customers.”

Roy glanced away, but then peered back at Ed, reaching out to take his face.  Ed swallowed, glancing away.  He knew what Roy was looking for, and though he hadn’t taken drugs, not tonight, the action still… left him a little self-conscious.

Roy tilted his head.  “You seem… better.”

Ed shrugged away from the touch, smiling wryly.  “I’m always great, remember?”

When he turned, he nearly ran into the chest of someone else, and when he tried to step back, the man grabbed his wrist and waved a hundred dollar bill in his face, grinning.

“Head out back?” he drawled, slurring his words drunkenly.  Ed froze, mind automatically mapping out escape routes—

“Hey, dude.  First dibs.”

Roy’s hand thrust between them, breaking the man’s grip, sending him sulking off with a grumble.

Relaxing and remembering how to breathe, Ed turned back to Roy and raised an eyebrow.  “Cocky.”

Roy didn’t seem to see: he was too busy glaring the guy away, despite clearly having already established his victory.  “I haven’t had anyone to spend my money on in a while.  I can outbid that jerk any day.”

Ed snorted, and though habit nearly had him adding a flirtatious edge to his next words, right now, he couldn’t be bothered: so dry as fuck it was.  “Now, that kind of talk I like.”

Roy relaxed slowly at the words, turning back to Ed, and smiled fondly, shoving Ed’s heart in the approximate vicinity of his throat.   _Fuck._  “God, I’ve missed you.”

Ed cleared his throat, feeling a slight hint of a flush in his cheeks, drumming his fingers on his thigh.  Fuck, he hated going without a hit for even a short amount of time, even if it was to spend a little more time sober with Roy.  “No one gives blow jobs like me, huh?” he drawled, hoping that it deflected from his embarrassment.

“Haven’t let anyone try.”

 _God_ he looked so fucking sincere, with that stupid smile and that stupid expression—Ed shook his head quickly.  He needed to get a grip!  Raising an eyebrow at him, he shrugged.  “So, outta here?”

“If you’d like.”

Ed huffed, leaning up to kiss Roy below the ear.  “I’d like.”

Roy’s hand slipped into Ed’s, and he glanced down at it in surprise before glancing back up at him.  The look Roy gave him, well, Ed had no doubt that he had noticed how stone cold sober Ed was.

“You need anything?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah.”  Ed lifted his chin.  “A ride.”

The smile on Roy’s face brightened up the room like no strobe lights could have.  “I think I can handle that.”

On an impulse, Ed leaned to kiss him, almost sweetly, lingering.  “In multiple ways, I hope,” he murmured with a smirk against Roy’s mouth.

Ed tried to ignore the way Roy stared at him, like he was something holy, like Roy was _blessed_ , as they got in the car.

“God,” he whispered, reaching over to take Ed’s hand, and Ed might not have gone to college but he could have _sworn_ that the hand wasn’t directly linked to the heart, so why was the contact making it beat so fast?  “I thought you were dead, Ed.  I called in a favor from a cop friend of mine to keep an eye out at the morgue.”

Ed’s heart _stopped._  “You have a _cop_ friend?” he choked, yanking his hand away.

“Yes, and he knows what I do.  He’s fine.”  Roy reached out again.  “He’s a paper pusher.”

“Fuck.  Fuck.”  Ed shook his head, wondering how he could swing from actually being _happy_ to sick so quickly.  “Look, if this causes problems—I don’t want a fuckin’ cop knowing anything about me.  They fucking hate us.”

“I didn’t tell him anything about you, Ed,” Roy said cautiously.  “Just a description.”

“That’s bad enough.  God, I’m gonna have fuckin’ cops all over me the next time I streetwalk.”  He ran his fingers through his hair.  “And not the good kind, either.”

“Ed, please.”  His fingers rested gently on Ed’s shoulder.  “I’ll call him in the morning to tell him to stop, okay?  He was just looking over the morgue anyway.”  Roy’s sigh had a note of sadness in it that Ed didn’t understand.  “You really don’t like cops, do you?”

Ed snorted, flopping back in the seat as Roy started the car.  “Look, you might get shit from ‘em because you’re a dealer, but that’s mostly them doin’ their jobs.”  He turned to look at Roy, trying to convey how much it _hurt_ , to be treated this way.  “But we’re who they really hate.  Especially the _faggot_ kind.”  He spit the word out; it hurt less coming from his own mouth than it did from others, at least.  He scoffed.  “Though they seem plenty eager for us to suck their dick when they pick us up.”

Roy took a slow, deep breath.  Ed had to wonder what was going through his head.  He did that a lot, actually.

“You’re right,” he said quietly.  “They mostly leave me alone.  I’m sorry they’re that way to you.”  He reached over to gently touch Ed’s hair, running his fingers through Ed’s ponytail, and Ed did smile crookedly at that.

Still, it quickly faded, and Ed rolled his eyes.  “Bet you they’d have laughed if they’d found me.  If they even bothered to ID me.  Friend of mine got killed, by one of Kimblee’s buddies?  They found him in a dumpster couple months back.  They laughed and called him _dumpster boy._  We could all hear it.  They never even bothered finding out his fuckin’ _name._ ”

When Ed glanced over, the gleam in Roy’s eye was slightly murderous.  “Who killed him?”

Ed snorted softly.  It wasn’t like Roy could do anything about it.  “Guy named Frank Archer.”  He shrugged.  “There’s a million stories like it.  They don’t give a fuck.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Roy sighed.

Ed glanced over towards him.  “What, you’re fucking surprised?”

Roy kept his eyes on the road ahead.  “No.  Sadly.  I just wish it didn’t happen.”

“Don’t we all.”

They rode in silence for a few more moments, then, “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Ed turned away, looking out the window.  “Wasn’t the first.  Won’t be the last.  I guess I’m just lucky it wasn’t me.”

“It’s the corruption,” Roy muttered next to him.  “They’re all on Bradley’s payroll, and they just…”

“Hey.”  Ed knew his voice was a little sharper than it should have been, but right now, he didn’t care.  “It’s that corruption that keeps people like you in business.”

When Ed glanced over, he could see that Roy’s knuckles had whitened around the wheel.  “I know,” he whispered hoarsely.

Ed cleared his throat.  “Anyway.  Let’s talk about more happy shit.”

Roy’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he glanced over, smiling fondly.  “I did miss you.”

Ed muttered, “Yeah, well, you’re a half-decent client.  Gotta appreciate that.”  He hoped Roy couldn’t see his blush.

“I suppose I can live with half-decent,” Roy chuckled.  “But you couldn’t even come say hi?”

Ed looked away.  “I was busy.  Gettin’ sick laid me out, okay?  Being this skinny is good for the customers, but not so much when you’re puking up everything you put in your mouth.”

“I’m sorry.”  Roy chuckled softly.  “I’m glad you’re all right, though.  I did worry.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now, okay?” Ed snapped, a little more irritably than he should have.  Hearing that he had been the cause of so much distress for Roy… well, anyway.

“Okay, that’s fine.”  And fuck, it wasn’t _fair_ , how he was so understanding, the way he held his hand out for Ed to take, but only if he wanted.  The way that, the moment Ed had told Roy about Al, he had realized that he was in way too fucking deep with this guy.  He wanted to hate him, wanted to just think of him as a sucker to make money off of, but for some reason, Roy was _safety_ in the middle of a sea of anything but, and Ed had been drowning in that sea for years.

Instead of taking the hand, he crossed his arms and slumped back.

Roy just put his hand back in his lap and continued back to the apartment.  Ed hopped out of the car the moment it stopped.

“Y’know, it’s a lot nicer to be coming here actually on a job.”

Roy smiled over at him, clearly pleased.   _Ugh._  “Yeah?”

“Instead of a totally fucked out state of blazed,” Ed said loudly, trying to ignore the things that smile did to him.

“Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

_Ugh!_

Ed laughed a little darkly.  “Don’t even worry about it.”

When they got inside, as Roy turned to lock the door, Ed dumped his jacket onto the floor, flopping back onto the couch and smirking like he owned the place.  “Well?”

Roy turned back, still smiling that stupid fond smile.  “Do you want anything?  Water, food…?”

“Sure.”  Ed spread his arms.  “Wine me and dine me.”  Though his tone was slightly sarcastic, he _would_ appreciate it.

“What would you like?”

“Whatever you got.”

Roy jerked his head for Ed to follow as he walked into the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of wine, and unscrewed the cork.  At the pop, Ed squinted.  “Oh, shit.  That’s real wine.”  Accepting a glass, he hopped up to sit on the counter next to the sink, watching Roy chop vegetables.

Roy turned to pull out a pan and some food from the fridge, setting it on the stove and turning on the burner.  Ed swirled the wine, sniffed at it, then lifted his chin, putting on his best snobby expression.  “Ah, yes.  I’m getting very faint notes of… grape.”

Roy laughed, dropping a pat of butter into the pan.  “Yes, grapes and water.  Hints of fermentation.”

Ed sniffed some more.  “And… what else is this that I detect… is it a person who’s willing to spring for more than a six dollar bottle of Yellowtail?”

“If you ever bring Yellowtail into this house I will make you pour it down the drainage ditch outside.”

Ed straightened indignantly.  “The fuck d’you got against Yellowtail?”

“It’s _swill._ ”

“What, cheap and classless?”

“Yes.  It tastes like watered down vinegar.  Which is the worst kind of ingestible vinegar.”  He handed Ed a salad, then turned to toss some chunks of vegetables into the pan.  Ed wrinkled his nose—green things—and set it down next to his leg.

“I’m just saying, it seems to be your type.”

Roy snorted, stirring the vegetables around.  “Please, what about me is cheap and classless?”

“Oh, I didn’t say _you_ were.  I said you seem to like things that are,” he finished with a smirk.

Roy turned his head to rolls his eyes at Ed.  “Please, you’re anything but cheap.”

“Are you kidding?  You ever hired a real prostitute?”

“Eat your salad.”  Roy glanced over his shoulder.  “Then what does that make you?”

Ed sighed, picking up the salad and poking for something not too green.  “Dirty hooker.”

Roy went still for a moment, and Ed glanced over, but then he swiftly tossed the chunks of chicken into the pan.  “You’re not,” he said quietly.

“Whatever.”  Ed nibbled on a cucumber.  “I’m just saying, I peddle my ass for really goddamn cheap in comparison to, y’know, non-trashy hustlers.”

“You aren’t trashy, Ed.”

“Uh huh.”

Roy set down the spoon, letting the stir fry simmer, and turned to look at Ed.  Ed had to look away at the compassionate expression in his eyes.  “You really think that?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” Ed muttered.  “True is true.”  He shoved a forkful of lettuce into his mouth.

“No, it’s not.”  Ed glanced up in surprise at the earnestness in Roy’s tone.  “Not in the realm of psychology.  Things are subjective.”  Roy stepped forward.  “I think you’re beautiful, and amazing, and smart, and funny.  And brave and compassionate, and so many other things, and what you do has no bearing on who you are, regardless of what people might have you believing.”  Roy sighed explosively, and Ed jumped slightly.  “What I’m saying is that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Ed swallowed, trying to keep his expression neutral, but he knew that he probably looked uncomfortable as hell.  He just concentrated on eating his salad.

Roy turned back to the stir fry.  “I know that makes me sound… probably terrifying.  But I don’t want to own you, or possess you.  I respect that your decisions are your own, and I don’t have any desire to take that autonomy away from you.  But if it helps, there’s at least one person who thinks the best of you.”

He fell quiet then, not saying anything more, and Ed continued to pick silently at his salad.  Finally, he muttered, “I’m a fuckin’ hustler and you’re a fuckin’ drug dealer.  Where the hell do you come up with this shit?  We’re not exactly in some fancy-ass Shakespeare play.”

Roy chuckled softly.  “You’ve seen Moulin Rouge?”

“Once.  Did you jack it from there?”

Ed was _pretty_ sure Roy’s accent was supposed to be French.  “Edward, you may see me only as a drunken, vice-ridden gnome whose friends are just pimps and girls from the brothels.  But I know about art and love, if only because I long for it with every fiber of my being.”

Ed snorted.  “Then why the fuck are you peddling crack?”

Roy shrugged.  “Antidepressants are expensive.  I have to pay for them somehow.  And I’m quite qualified.  Friendly, convincing…”

“If you got a job you’d get insurance.”

“With these tattoos?”

“Hide them.”  Ed got a bit of a perverse sense of pleasure, giving Roy the same speech he had gotten from him a while ago.

“There are worse things in life.  I at least have plenty of time to read.”

Ed set the empty salad bowl down.  “How’d it happen, anyway?”

Roy glanced over at him, a little surprised.  Fuck, he didn’t have to _point it out_ that it was weird that Ed was making conversation.  “I needed a job, and I had a friend.  Well, two.  One of them was a cop, the other was a drug dealer.  The police academy required seven grand, and the other one promised immediate cash.”  He shrugged.  “You can see the one I went with.”

“The cop your pencil pusher?”

“Yep.”

“And what happened to the other guy?”

Roy laughed a little wryly.  “He’s in jail.  But that’s okay.  He was kind of an asshole.”  Spooning the stir fry onto plates, he handed one to Ed.

Roy’s cooking skills remained as superb as always, and by the time they were finished, Ed had stretched back, arms behind his head, shirt riding up to reveal a strip of stomach.

“So?” Ed drawled as Roy put the dishes in the sink.

“So?  Did you have a plan for the first night you show up—sober, I might add—after a month of letting me think you were dead?”

“Hey, I didn’t know you’d think I was dead.  And I was thinking you might be interested in fucking me on every available surface of your apartment, but hey, what do I know.”

Roy’s eyebrows shot up, nearly concealed by his bangs.  “I’d like to at least make it to the bed.”

Ed shrugged, all confidence outwardly, and stood, reaching down to strip off his shirt, spinning it around idly as he headed to the bedroom.  Right before he vanished through the door, he dropped it on the floor, shooting a smirk over his shoulder towards Roy.

When he turned back, however, he took a deep breath, swallowing hard.  He could do this.  He _wanted_ to do this, even, and yes, it terrified him, but…

_Roy._

When he turned, Roy had followed him in, picking up the shirt and setting it in the chair.  “Are you sure about this?” he asked carefully.  Gently.  Fuck.

Ed could feel his cockiness slipping a little, but then he smiled.  “Yeah, totally.”

Roy stepped forward, sincerity in every inch of his being.  “Ed, please be honest with me.  You started crying the last time I saw you, about how much you hated sex.”

“I wasn’t crying!” Ed snapped, bristling.

“You were still upset.”

Ed took a deep breath, eyes sliding down and away from Roy’s, praying that he would find the words to articulate this.

“I do, okay?  I mean, I have.  But hell, I figured if I could enjoy it sober, it’ll be with you, because you actually know what you’re fuckin’ doing.”   _And because you care about what you’re doing._  Still, he glared up at Roy, daring him to say something, to imply that it was for anything but Ed’s own pleasure.

Of course, Roy’s only reaction was to smile encouragingly at him.  “That’s quite high praise.  Thank you.  I’m fairly sure I’ll be able to accommodate.”

“Oh, please,” Ed snapped, trying to pretend that he was annoyed at the sentimentality.  “You gonna come fuck me, or you already regretting not having some meth to shut my mouth up?”

“Of course not.  I love to hear you talk.”

Ed crossed his arms over his chest.  “Then are you just gonna sit there and do it yourself?”

Roy laughed softly, reaching down to pull his shirt off—

The scar, probably about six inches across, caught Ed’s eye.  Roy hadn’t gotten his tattoo redone yet, and Ed felt his mouth growing dry.  He winced.

“You know what my mom used to say about scars?” Roy said, and Ed glanced up.  “That they proved you survived.”  He shrugged.  “Of course, that was when I fell off my bike when I was four, but I suppose the same theory applies.”

“Yeah.”  Ed tore his eyes away from the scar, smiling crookedly up at Roy.

Roy closed the door behind them.  “Tell me to stop at any time.  We can set up a safeword, too, if you’d like.”

“I think ‘stop’ will be fine.”

“Okay.”  He stepped closer, and Ed watched in the dim light as Roy reached out to gently touch the hair at his temple, sliding his fingers through Ed’s bangs.

With a soft huff of laughter, Ed reached forward, wrapping his arms around Roy’s neck, stood on his toes, and kissed him.

Roy kissed back, slowly, wrapping his arms around Ed, running his fingers down through Ed’s ponytail.  The gentleness left Ed’s heart leaping: this wasn’t disgusting, or awful.  This was _Roy._  Ed kissed him back eagerly, tugging him back towards the bed.

Roy followed, but put up some resistance.  “No need to rush, Angel,” he whispered.

Ed made an annoyed noise against his mouth and kissed him some more, trying to urge him on, but all Roy did was pull out the tie in his hair, combing it out gently.

With a sigh—though it was mostly for appearances; this kind of kissing was _nice_ —Ed relaxed into Roy’s arms, letting him hold him, kiss him slowly, moaning softly into the wonderful, unfamiliar rhythm, humming happily against Roy’s lips.

Finally, Roy began to move, laying him back down on the bed.  For a moment, Ed wondered if he was dreaming: after all, he had seen this exact scene in every sensual romantic scene in a movie ever.  Ed braced himself on the bed, one arm around Roy’s shoulders, gasping slightly between the kisses, letting himself be lowered.  With a content sigh, he wrapped his other arm around Roy’s neck.

Roy slid a hand up Ed’s side, and he swore he could feel sparks trailing in its wake.  He gasped and shivered, taking full advantage of the opportunity to run his hands up Roy’s stomach and chest, trace over his tattoos—even briefly brush at his scar.

Roy kissed him like he wanted to kiss him all night.  Appealing as the option sounded, Ed didn’t _want_ him to—not on the mouth, anyway.  He wanted Roy to kiss him in plenty of other places, and then he wanted to see—he wanted to see if it was really real, forehead-to-forehead sex where their lips were just barely not brushing but they could still taste each others’ gasps with their noses pressed together and they both _wanted_ each other, fucking _cared_ —

He wrapped completely around Roy, kissing and humming and sighing pleased, as Roy held a hand behind his head, leaving him safe and comfortable.

And then, finally, _finally_ , he broke away from Ed’s mouth and began to kiss down his neck.

“Fuck,” Ed murmured, closing his eyes and tilting his head back and gasping.  “Woah.”

Roy responded by kissing more at his neck, then his collarbone, and all Ed could do was exhale shakily.

Roy ran his hands over Ed, strong and warm, mouth reaching his chest—

Ed choked, making a strangled noise.  “Roy—“

“Yes, Angel?”

Ed just got out another strangled noise, choking out something that might have been the first half of a swear word, probably Farsi but he wasn’t really sure.

Roy returned to kissing him, then, rubbing a thumb over his hipbone, and Ed’s entire body shuddered.  Roy chuckled softly and did it again, slipping the thumb below his waistline.

Ed, of course, found himself totally useless, gasping, trying to cling as Roy continued to run his hands over every inch of skin he could reach before unbuttoning his own pants.

Ed inhaled at that, watching carefully, but Roy only took off his own, leaving the decision of Ed’s up to him.  Ed reached down, glancing up for permission.

Roy leaned in again, kissing his neck, and whispered, “This is all up to you, Angel.”

Ed nodded, fumbling at the button, then undid them, hands shaking slightly.  Roy kissed his temple while he did, slow and gentle and luxurious.

“I missed you so much,” Roy breathed.

“I’m here now.”  Ed swallowed, trying to remember how to breathe.

“I know, Angel.”  Roy kissed Ed’s neck.  “But I missed you.”

Ed gasped at the kiss, grumbled a little, and then slid out of his pants.

Roy laughed softly and returned to kissing Ed’s mouth, and though his knees settled between Ed’s legs, he kept his hips from touching Ed’s.

Ed lifted a hand at that, hesitantly, to run his fingers through Roy’s hair, and the pleased noise he got was addicting, made him bolder.  He buried both fingers in that soft hair, holding Roy close, though his hesitation was an unfamiliar beast that kept him slow.

…However, Ed eventually had enough of it, taking a deep breath, hooking a leg around Roy’s waist, and tugging him in impatiently.  With a gasp, he arched his hips up, pressing their cocks together—

Oh, _fuck_ he was hard.  And so was Roy.  And for once—the thought didn’t sicken him.  The exact opposite, in fact.  He kissed Roy back enthusiastically, the curling pleasure through his gut _thrilling_ him.

Roy obliged, reaching over to rummage for a condom and lube while he trailed a hand down Ed’s side and over his ass—then hooked at his knee.

Ed hummed against his mouth, moving down to kiss at Roy’s jaw, lifting his hips—

Roy reached around again, squeezing his ass.  “Patience, Ed.”

Ed let out a huff of laughter, trying and failing not to grin.  “And I thought you knew me.”

“I do,” Roy growled playfully, nipping at his ear.  “Which is why I know you need a reminder.”

Ed sighed melodramatically, flopping his head back on the pillow to stare up at Roy, that smirking, gorgeous, perfect face, doing his best to look put-upon.  He managed, however, for maybe three seconds before he felt his face flush and had to look over to the side.

Roy chuckled softly and kissed at the patch of neck Ed had exposed, leaving Ed gasping and shivering with surprise, then uncapped the lube.  Ed watched out of the corner of his eye as he spread some on his fingers and reached down, then winced slightly when they pressed in.

Roy froze.

“You okay, Angel?”

“Y-yeah, fine,” Ed gasped.

Roy withdrew his hand, and Ed scowled.  “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing!” Ed snapped, squirming frantically.  He didn’t need any more delays.

Roy, however, stared down at him, scowling right back.  “Ed, come on.”

“What?”

“You need to talk to me.  I’m not comfortable with my partners looking like they’re in pain.”

Ed shook his head.  “I’m not in pain!  Just… this has always sucked before.  I’m fine.  I will be.”

Roy sighed, lowering his hand again and adding more lube.  “Tell me if it hurts, all right?”

“I will.”  Ed squirmed again, impatient—he wanted to _start_ , wanted to get _to_ this—

And _then_ Roy pushed his finger in, leaving Ed gasping.

Roy kissed him a little more forcefully, curling his finger, and Ed shuddered, kissing back.  Fuck.    _Fuck._  This _could_ be good.

He flinched a little when Roy slid the second finger in, but it didn’t hurt, not really, not like he had expected like this.  But of course not.  Because this was _Roy._

Roy, who pressed lingering kisses to his mouth, neck, chest, shoulders, sliding his tongue gently across sensitive spots as his pressed his fingers against others, keeping Ed hard and almost aching but in a beautiful way, a way he hadn’t known existed without drugs.  Ed watched, as much as he could, sweat dripping, eyes wide, letting out gasps and moans and even yelps as Roy left him a whimpering, shaking mess.

“I should have warned you that I love foreplay,” Roy murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I remember that much,” Ed gasped back, toes curling.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Roy breathed, and Ed had to look away, muttering something about good-for-nothing flatterers.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

“Like it’s fucking true.”

“It is.”  Roy leaned in, kissing his hip.  “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Ed reached down, bright red, and shoved at his shoulder.  “Just fuck me already.”

Roy lifted his head, a mischievous grin playing around his mouth.  “As you wish.”

Ed just groaned, covering his face.

Roy laughed gently, reaching down, and Ed heard the rustling of the condom wrapper before a hand took his leg, hiking it up.  “You still okay?”

“No, you’re a fuckin’ dork.  I’m about to be way more percentage dork than is acceptable.”

Roy let out a burst of laughter at that.  “Excuse me?” he choked out.

“You fuckin’ heard me.”  Ed tried to glare, but he found himself grinning too.

Roy continued to laugh helplessly, shaking his head.  “I can’t believe you referred to penetration as percentages.”

“Well, apparently it’s gonna be zero percent now, since you’ve decided to laugh instead of get it up.”

“Oh, no, I’m definitely already up.”  Roy chuckled again.  “That’s actually kind of hot, though.”  He tilted his head, smirking more than a little.  “You know.  Statistically speaking.”

Ed raised his eyebrows, grinning himself.  “What, science and statistics turn you on?”

“Well, they certainly don’t hurt.”

Ed snorted, reaching up to tug at Roy’s shoulder.  “Don’t get me started on that one.”

Instead of leaning back down, Roy turned to kiss his wrist.  “Why not?”

“Somehow I doubt you wanna hear about Planck’s constant or Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle in bed.”

Roy continued to nuzzle at Ed’s wrist.  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.  Besides be with you.”

Ed scoffed.  Fucking sap!  “Well, fuck me hopefully.”

Roy glanced at Ed sidelong, smirking.  “I assumed that was part of the ‘be with.’”

“Well, hop to it then!”  Ed wiggled his foot in the direction of Roy’s head.

Roy laughed softly, leaning in to kiss him again.  “For you?  Certainly.”  Lifting his leg slightly, tilting his hips forward, he lined himself up and began to push himself in.

Ed inhaled sharply, gripping Roy’s arms, breathing shallowly and quickly, eyes darting around.  He trusted Roy, he did, but this… this had never been good.

“Angel,” Roy whispered, cradling his head with the other hand.  “You’re here with me.  It’s okay.  I’ll never hurt you, love.  You can relax.”

“I know,” Ed choked out, voice strangled.  “I’m sorry.  Just—just go.”

Roy slid his arm further under Ed, cradling him close.  “You need to relax first.”

“I’m relaxed.”

Roy’s lips pressed against the side of Ed’s neck.  “If I push in any more it’s going to hurt you.  And I don’t want to do that.”

Ed closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to force himself to relax.

“I’ll take my time,” Roy murmured, sliding in a little more.

“You’re weird,” Ed muttered, squinting up at Roy.  Roy just kissed him again.

“I don’t want to hurt you.  I imagine you haven’t had many considerate sexual partners?”

“None that I can really think of, at least not when I wasn’t high enough off my ass to care.”

“Well, I hope I can change that,” Roy murmured, sliding in more as he kissed Ed.

They quieted for a while, Ed panting, Roy murmuring reassurances, and—and it _was_ nice.  A little uncomfortable, perhaps, but as Roy settled all the way in, something about the sheer intimacy that locked them together, the heat of skin against skin, the way he could feel Roy’s body almost as much as his own—

 _That_ was something Ed enjoyed.

Finally, Roy stilled, and the stared at each other, panting, eyes locked together.  Ed could see Roy’s face melt into fondness, and god, he was about to say something romantic.

“Would you care to estimate your percentage of dork now?”

Ed let out a bark of unexpected laughter at that, beaming.  “Too fuckin’ much!”  Still, he wrapped his other leg around Roy’s hip, pulling him in more.

“Mmm, tell me when you’re ready to move.”

Ed whined.  “Go!”

Roy did, then, rolling his hips, and Ed gasped.  He had been here, a thousand times before, being filled, being _used_ , but Roy—Roy didn’t use.

Ed squirmed underneath him, eyes wide.  “F—fuck.”

“Feeling better?” Roy panted, keeping up his steady rhythm.

“Yeah.  Wow.   _Fuck._ ”

Roy _cherished_ , the way he cradled Ed’s head, the way he pressed gentle kisses to his lips and face, the way he angled his hips to—

“Shit!” Ed yelped, eyes wide as he jerked his own hips forward, stunned by the sudden flood of pleasure.

“Feel good?” Roy breathed, mouth against Ed’s jaw.

“Yeah!  Shit, god,” Ed choked out, eyes wide.

“Has no one ever done this for you?”  He murmured, still kissing, and Ed shook his head the tiniest bit, to make sure he didn’t jostle Roy free.

Roy continued to move at that, carefully, steadily.  None of the rough fucking or quick humping that Ed was used to.  Roy, Ed realized, with a gasp of disbelief during a particularly _amazing_ thrust against his prostate, was _making love_ to him.

He kept gasping, reaching up to dig his nails into Roy’s back, leaving him groaning loudly.  Ed dug his nails in harder, and Roy sped up, just a bit.

“God, yes,” he groaned.

Hearing Roy lose himself, just a bit, sent a thrill through Ed, and he dragged his nails down Roy’s back again, further and harder, leaving Roy shuddering and panting.

At that, eyes gleaming, Ed leaned in to bite at Roy’s neck.

“Fuck,” he gasped, pressing his lips against the skin he had just bitten, “Roy—“

“Yeah?”  Roy squeezed him a little tighter, clearly hanging on to every word, hitting his prostate with every thrust.

“Oh jesus,” Ed gasped weakly, tilting his head back.  “Fuck, how am I supposed to ever think about anything but this?”

Roy nuzzled under Ed’s jaw as Ed’s nails dug in harder.  “You could try thinking about you fucking me.”

 _That_ completely yanked Ed out of his bliss, and he jerked back, eyes wide and panicky.  Or, well, tried to jump away.   _Ow._  “Wait, what?!”

Roy hissed, pulling out, eyes wide with shock.  “I’m… sorry?”

“N-no, don’t be,” Ed choked out, feeling the heat, the mortification, flush his face, kind of wishing that the bed would crack open and swallow him up.  “Sorry.  Uh.  Carry on.”

And of course, the bastard tried to make it better, like the perfect asshole he was.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know you were so attached to bottoming.  Most people tend to switch.”

Ed just stared at him blankly.  The fuck was he talking about?

Roy smiled a little hesitantly.  “You know, change who tops every now and again?”

“Roy,” he said flatly.  “No one pays to have some skinny underfed streetwalker fuck him in the ass.”

For a moment, Roy looked like Ed had just slapped him in the face.  His expression warred with itself, flashing through several different ones—and then twitched, settling into something calm and masklike.  “Right.  How silly of me to assume.”  He sighed, glancing down.

“Sorry.  I shouldn’t have—can we keep going?”  Ed looked up at him hopefully.

“Of course.”  Roy smiled down at him, but there was a sadness behind it.  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You didn’t.”  Ed tugged him in again, kissing him and scratching down his back.

Roy gasped softly, turning into his cheek and kissing it.  “I’m still sorry.”

Ed just ignored him, kissing him again, and Roy returned the favor, kissing deeply, clearly trying to restore the mood.  Ed tried to convey how hopeful he was that they could get past this, almost desperate, but fuck, behind it all was mortification.  This was a mess.  Good job, Ed.

But Roy continued to kiss, letting them linger longer and slower, and Ed’s shoulders began to unknit.

Roy finally pushed back in, and _that_ yanked Ed’s attention back to business, leaving him squealing and writhing.

And then Roy started to fuck, went back to cradling him, went back to _holding_ him—

As Roy caught his rhythm back, leaving Ed panting, thrusting over and over and over— _god_ , Ed loved this, in a way he had never been able to imagine—and he wanted to give _back_ , now, let Roy see him at his most genuine and vulnerable.

Roy leaned in, still cradling him and kissing and going slow, so slow, and pressed his forehead against Ed’s.

Ed gasped, shakily, tilting his head back slightly, keeping the contact as he arched up against Roy, tasting his breath but not quite touching.  He just—he clung, it was all he could do, gasping up into his mouth, feeling so rapturous he was almost high, but this was better than any high he ever could have had.

Roy fumbled down between them, reaching his hand to grip Ed’s cock, and—

And Ed yelped and jerked his head and came.

Roy kept moving, eyes wide with surprise, but Ed barely noticed, relaxed, let him move as he floated in his own pleasure, smiling faintly when he heard Roy groan and come above him.

They panted for a few moments and held each other, Roy’s forehead still pressed to Ed’s, eyes closed.  Ed reached up, fingers shaking as he traced them down Roy’s cheek.

Eventually, Roy rolled off, gripping the base of the condom as he pulled out gently, leaving Ed gasping and oddly empty.  As soon as he threw it away, Ed rolled into him, shaking.

Roy took to holding him immediately, cuddling and petting his hair as Ed took a deep breath, trying to settle.

“You’re phenomenal, Angel,” Roy whispered, and Ed knew that he _meant_ it.

Ed didn’t reply, and they lay together in silence.

“Feeling okay?” Roy murmured after a bit, a sleepy slur in his voice.

“Fine, I swear,” Ed muttered, trying to fake annoyance but something settling in his chest, curling up like a particularly pleased cat.

“Good.”  Roy’s eyes fluttered closed and he curled up, clearly intending to sleep.

“Sleeping already?” Ed stage whispered.

“I believe it’s called a power nap,” Roy replied warningly, not even bothering to fake the whisper.

“Fine,” Ed grumbled.  “I guess at your advanced age…”

“I imagine you must have something similar for your advanced assholery.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Roy murmured, smiling, still not opening his eyes.  Ed elbowed him, but sighed, curling back into him.  Roy hummed happily.  “This is nice.”

“What, making fun of me?”

“No.”  Of course the asshole had to go and make it all _romantic._  “Being here.  With you.  I’m enjoying it.”

“Hmph,” Ed grumbled, but since Roy wasn’t looking, he allowed himself to crack a smile as Roy drifted off to sleep.

  


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[ ](http://uchiha-umeko.tumblr.com/post/149624577836/yepyou-guys-know-exactly-what-this-means-i-am)

_Art by[Uchiha-Umeko](http://uchiha-umeko.tumblr.com/)_


	10. Chapter 10

Ed traced his fingers over Roy’s face as he watched him sleep, eyes softening in a way he never would have permitted had Roy been awake.

Roy’s face had softened, too, without a trace of the charming smarminess that usually lurked somewhere in there.  He could still spot charm, of course, but it was a different kind, gentle and protective and even a little vulnerable.

Emboldened, he slid his fingers further, instead cupping Roy’s face, a little awed.  How had they ended up here?  How had _Ed?_  This sort of thing—it didn’t happen, not to him.  He smiled faintly, blaming the sleepiness.  The exhaustion.  The sobriety.

Roy groaned softly, and his eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily, expression adorably confused as he looked up at Ed.  “Nnnn?”

Ed smiled gently, feeling the sleepiness weigh on his own eyelids, reaching out to cradle Roy’s face.

“The universe doesn’t allow perfection,” he murmured, chuckling softly, running a thumb down Roy’s cheek.  “I keep tellin’ myself that.  But I can’t believe it.”

Roy seemed to wake up enough to rest his hand over Ed’s, staring at him for a moment.  Ed couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he watched Ed, unfathomable.

Roy must be out of it.  Swallowing, starting to feel ridiculous, he tried to tug his hand away, but Roy stopped him.

“That means more than you know,” he whispered hoarsely, placing a kiss on the back of his hand.

Ed huffed and grumbled, “Whatever.”

“It’s not every day I get complimented by saying Hawking is wrong.”

Ed froze, then flushed deeply.  “You—you fucking—what?”

“Sorry?”

“I just… didn’t expect…”

“What self-respecting street-level drug dealer hasn’t read Hawking?”

“All the rest of them.”

Roy laughed, then kissed his hand again.  “Thank you, regardless.”

Ed sighed and shook his head, but he knew he couldn’t hide the begrudging affection on his face, and let it show through.

Roy gestured for him to come closer, though, and Ed scooted forward, a pleased thrill in his chest.  Roy curled around him, getting close, wrapping him up in his arms.  “That was the most beautiful compliment I’ve ever received.”

Ed snorted.  “You’re a fuckin’ sap, and I wouldn’t have said it if I thought you’d get it.”

“What’s so wrong with understanding?” Roy breathed, nuzzling into Ed’s hair.

“Nothing,” he muttered.

“Then why wouldn’t you have said it?”

“’Cause you seem to have left some percentage of sap in me’s why.”

“I apologize.  I didn’t realize my saliva was quite so sappy.”

Ed wrinkled his nose.  “Gross!  No, it’s slippery.”

“Go to sleep, Angel.”

“You’re the one who has it,” Ed slurred.  “Should know.”

Roy didn’t respond, and Ed let his eyelids drift shut, drifting with them into sleep.

“Always wanted t’be like him, y’know,” he mumbled.

“Like Hawking?”  The response was quiet, barely penetrating his sleepiness.

“Mm, yeah.  Figure out something that’d change the world.”  He huffed a little with laughter.  “N’lookit me now.  Givin’ the best blow jobs in Illinois.”

“Where did you get accepted for college?” came the murmur, and Ed hummed a little.

“Berkely’n MIT.  Too much to apply for three.”

Fingers ran through his hair.

“What did you want to study?”

Ed’s mind cast about for answers, explanations, the ideas that had all seemed so alluring at the time…

But then darkness swallowed him, and he was gone.

—

Ed woke up to the fucking _delicious_ smell of bacon.

He grunted, forcing his eyes open to see Roy, gloriously shirtless, tattoos stark against his skin, holding a tray with a pile of food on it.

Ed sat bolt upright, going red.  “What—what’s this?!”

“I told you, Angel.  I was going to make you breakfast.”

He stepped over to sit on the bed, handing the tray over, leaning into Ed as he gaped at the array: bacon, scrambled eggs, a _giant_ waffle, sausage links, a bagel with cream cheese, and a banana.

“Holy shit,” Ed breathed, approximately three seconds before diving in.

Roy watched him eat fondly, and Ed tried to smile at him occasionally, but really, the allure of the pile of food in front of him was too much.  His stomach sang Roy’s praises, and Ed would have joined in the chorus if his mouth hadn’t been so busy inhaling everything it could reach.

“Still like my cooking, I see,” Roy murmured warmly, and Ed offered him a thumbs up with one hand as he used his bagel to scoop up egg with the other.

“I’ve got something else for you, too.”

Ed swallowed his bite of food, head snapping up.  “Donuts?” he asked hopefully.  Fuck, he hadn’t had one of those in _forever._

Roy chuckled slightly.  “Not quite.”  Reaching into the pocket of his lounge pants, he pulled out a small black square.  Ed frowned at it for a moment before realizing what it was, and then blinked, food momentarily forgotten.

“A phone?”

“Prepaid.  It has five hundred minutes, unlimited texting, and is good for three months.  My number is the only one in there.  I also thought you could use it to talk to your brother.”  He held it out to Ed.  “When you’re running low on minutes, just let me know.”

Ed reached out to take it, hand shaking slightly.  From the surprise, he told himself, ignoring the warning signs of lack of drugs beginning to set in.

“Thanks,” Ed choked out around the lump in his throat, flipping the phone open.  Punching in a number from memory, he composed a text.

_hey Al. got my hands on a prepaid.  how are you?_

The phone made a generic beeping noise, and Ed’s mouth stretched into a grin.

_BROTHER!!!!  I’m so glad!!!!  How is the factory work?!  How long does it last?!  Can I call?!?!_

_not yet, but soon!  factorys fine.  kinda sucks as always.  what about you?_

As the two of them exchanged frantic messages, Ed glanced up to see Roy smiling fondly at him.

He cleared his throat and froze—then spotted the rest of the food, picked up his fork, and continued to eat as Roy hopped up onto the bed, leaning into him.

When he finished, he leaned in too, moving only for the soft “beeps” from his new phone.

Eventually, however, he sighed.

“Have to leave?”

“Yeah,” Ed mumbled, rubbing at his eyes, then he crawled out of the bed, dressing.  Roy pulled on a shirt and followed him to the door, reaching into his pocket and pulling out cash and a baggie of meth.

“For the road.”

Ed pocketed the six hundred, fingers shaking, and stared at the meth hungrily.  He could feel it eating at him, the need, the _longing_ , but…

But Roy.  The way he went out of his way to make sure Ed stayed as healthy as he could.  The way he _looked_ at Ed, masked sadness in his eyes when he saw Ed’s irises swallowed by pupils.

Ed shook his head and turned away.  “I just… could I get a ride?”

Roy nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek.  “Of course.  You have my number if you need it.”

“Yeah,” Ed murmured, trying to smile.

—

The ride went by too quickly, Roy striking up a conversation about Ed’s past month, asking questions about when he tended to be free.  Ed moaned about his sickness, which had left him ragged, and eventually let slip about how angry it made him, sometimes, that he got stuck so often having sex with Bradley for free.

“That’s awful,” Roy murmured.  “And unfair.”

Ed sighed.  “Tell me about it.”

Roy nodded and sympathized and encouraged in all the right places, and Ed eventually ended up spilling the entire sordid story, the things he sometimes saw, awful things he overheard, and the constant, unending fear, even with the drugs, that one misstep would land him in a dumpster, too.

Roy asked about the people Bradley was with, and who they were, and other things Bradley did when around him.  Ed actually had to smile a little at his concern; he had to be checking that no one else had hurt him.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” Roy murmured, squeezing his hand as he pulled up to Kimblee’s.  “There’s got to be something we can do about it.  I’ll keep thinking about it, okay?”

“Yeah.”  Ed did his best not to let his skepticism show.  “Thanks, Roy.”

After a brief kiss, he headed inside.

“Well aren’t you special,” came Kimblee’s drawl as Ed stepped through the door.  “How many times has that been now?  Think he might be in love with you.”

The words sent a jolt of nausea through Ed’s stomach, but he just pulled the money out, handing it to Kimblee.

“Just means I have a guaranteed customer.  Ends up doing you good.”

Kimblee counted the six bills, then gave Ed a long, hard look.  “Not when you go running to this guy for your first trick of the evening.”  He waved the bills in Ed’s face.  “When I told you to propose six hundred, I thought it would be for you picking up some sucker _after_ the evening rush.  From now on, you bring me double this.  I don’t care what you do to earn it.”

Ed’s chest seized up at the thought of telling Roy that.  He would _never_ be able to afford it.  “But—“

Kimblee cuffed the side of his head.  “No buts.  That’s your quota.  Don’t meet it, and I’ll meet it for you.”  He lifted Roy’s money, eyeing Ed coldly, and Ed felt his insides beginning to freeze over.  “And this, this is not meeting it.”

Ed swallowed, stepping back.  “Fine.  I’ll get it for you tonight.”

Kimblee’s hand darted out to latch around Ed’s wrist.  “No.  You still owe me for _last_ night.”

Ed lifted a shoulder warily as Kimblee yanked him forward.  “That’s fucking _bullshit_ , and you know it—!”  He yelped, cut off by another cuff, this one to the face.

“My house.  My rules.”  He narrowed his eyes, leaning in, peering into Ed’s.  “Speaking of which, why the fuck are you sober?”

Ed tried to twist away, but Kimblee grabbed his jaw and held him there

“’Cause I want to be!” Ed gritted out, glaring.  He held onto the sight of Roy’s trusting, protective face in his mind, the pride when he had seen Ed refuse the drugs.

But it began to waver when Kimblee pulled out a baggie.

“C’mon.  You know you like this.”  Kimblee pulled out a straw, too, advancing on Ed.  “And it’ll make you like what’s coming even more.”

—

The first thing Ed noticed when he woke up was the scratchy pillows of the couch against the sensitive skin of his cheek.

The second was his _fucking awful headache._

He groaned, pushing himself up slowly, cracking open an eye.

Nope.  No, that had been a horrible idea.  He reached up to cover his face, groaning again.  Everything hurt, _everything_ , even just reaching up.  Fuck, he needed water.  If his mouth got any dryer, it would shrivel up on itself.

So he was going to have to brave the agony of light for something to drink.

With a grunt, he slid his aching legs off the couch, forcing one eye open and keeping in that way.  Hauling himself up, he then went to work on the other eye, though he kept them both squinted.  His head didn’t like that, but he was able to see enough to shuffle along.

_Fuck._

With a shiver, he realized that he was naked.  He tried to shove away the nauseous sensation of dread and spotted a mesh tank top nearby.  It would barely do anything to cover him, but Ed had worn worse and it would do until he found his way back to his real clothes.

He managed to make it to the communal kitchen, and though the bright light of the refrigerator drilled into his skull, he swiped a water bottle and started guzzling.

After chugging the entire thing, he felt _slightly_ more human.  Taking a deep breath—god, even his _lungs_ hurt—the pounding in his head lessened, he stumbled out of the room, wondering who the hell he could find to tell him what day it was.  He didn’t remember _anything._

What a fucking crash.

As he continued to stagger and limp through the run-down house, he caught the sight of laughter a few rooms away.  Rubbing at his eyes, he headed in that direction.  He needed some food, too; maybe it would be someone who could share.

But when he stepped in, the first person he spotted was Kimblee.

He and several others—all customers and friends, not another hooker in sight—had crowded together on the nice couch, eyes all glued to… something.

Likely spotting the movement out of the corner of his eye, Kimblee turned, then lifted his chin, eyes gleaming.

“Well, well.  If it isn’t our star.”

“Huh?” Ed mumbled, the words making no sense to him as he continued forward, still rubbing at his eye.  “What day’s it?”

“Thursday.”

Ed froze, hand in place.

Five days?  He had lost _five days?_  Most of Saturday, and the rest…

His eyes flicked to the other men, most of whom were still absorbed in what Ed could now see was an iPad.  He could hear noises coming from it, grunts and moans of laughter, the last of which was echoed by the men in the room.

Were they watching porn?  It wouldn’t have been the first time Ed had walked in on something similar, but with this group, something about it didn’t sit right.

A couple more of them turned now, watching Ed appreciatively in a way that left his skin crawling.  “Shit, Zolf,” one of them chuckled, turning back to the iPad.  “He _is_ a sight.”

When Ed’s eyes flicked back to Kimblee, Kimblee had gone back to thumbing through cash.  Wads of it.

Ed turned slowly towards the iPad, heart in his throat.

On first glance, he was greeted with a bare ass belonging to… well, Ed had no idea; that was all he could see, that and the sharp, brutal thrusting motions as he fucked into something.

Other men—some who Ed recognized from the room—cheered him on.

“C’mon!” one of them called, the man from behind the camera.  “This is your sixth go.  Leave a piece for the rest of us!”

The other man turned his head, panting, as he continued to thrust.  “Keep your dick on, almost—!”  And then he groaned, turning back, hips slowing before they finally came to a stop.

He pulled out, then turned back to the camera.  He wasn’t wearing a condom.  As he stepped aside, Ed caught sight of a tanned leg, bruised and familiar…

The camera zoomed in on the face.  Ed’s face.  Eyes closed, completely limp, unmoving as two men spread his legs wider, leaving room for someone else to—

He had to look away, stomach roiling, head spinning, hands shaking.

Right now, his mind was _screaming_ , telling him that he had been an _idiot_ for not accepting those drugs from Roy.

He turned back to Kimblee, face pale, eyes wide, chest numb.  Kimblee had roofied him before, Ed knew that, when he had been too tired to work or at a customer’s request, but _this…_

Kimblee glanced up from counting his money, blatantly unconcerned.  “You’ve made up for Friday night.”

The words seemed to be pinpricks, needling into the numbness, spreading something warm and nasty in their wake.

How dare he?

How _dare_ he?

Ed lifted his chin, eyes widening even more, this time defiantly.  Kimblee must have noticed something wrong, because he froze, watching Ed warily.  Ed didn’t care.

With a hoarse, shriek, teeth bared, Ed launched himself towards Kimblee, fingers outstretched and reaching for his throat.


	11. Chapter 11

_You can’t blame gravity for falling in love._

Roy had wanted to say that to Ed, five days ago, when Ed had dropped those beautiful words onto him with no warning at all.  Roy had known before that he had been lost, that he had sunk into a hell of his own making and that there was no going back, had known the moment his heart had nearly burst after seeing Ed for the first time in a month.  But that night had told him—there might be hope.  This might even be mutual, and even if not, _Ed wanted out._

But…

Five days.

Roy knew that sometimes Ed kept himself scarce, but he rarely went more than a couple of days without at least _seeing_ him, even if it was just while dealing on street corners, occasionally catching a glimpse of Ed working them as well.

But _five days._

He had caved on the second and sent a text, and called on the third.  It had gone straight to informing him that the phone’s voicemail box had not been set up yet, and done so every time Roy had called afterwards.

Roy tried to tell himself that Ed probably had a _valid_ reason for keeping the phone off.  He might be busy, and not want Kimblee to find it.  Or he might have just forgotten to charge it.

Or he might be _dead._

But Roy couldn’t afford to go looking for Ed, not now.  The information he had gotten, that _Ed_ had given to him, had busted the final cracks open on his case, and for the first time in two years, Roy could see the end.

He debated setting up another call to Maes, but he wanted to make sure he had just a little more information to provide him—

His phone rang.

The screen flashed “Ed.”

He nearly broke three bones in his rush to grab it and pick it up.

“Roy?!”

The frantic tone in Ed’s voice—well, Ed wasn’t dead.  But something was _very_ wrong.  In the distance, he heard a pounding noise that he couldn’t identify, but Ed was more important.

“I’m here, Angel.”

“God—fuck, Roy, have you seen me?  At all?  What day is it—he might have lied to me—“

“It’s Thursday, darling,” Roy replied, trying to keep his voice gentle.  “Why?  What happened?”

“ _Fuck._  I don’t—you haven’t seen me, since we last—since we—oh my god—“

Roy straightened, voice taking on a serious tone.  “No, I haven’t.  Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” came the desperate gasp.  “Fuck, I don’t know what happened—there was a video, but I don’t remember—“

Roy inhaled sharply, every warning voice in his body screaming.  “A video?  Do you want me to come get you?”

“I don’t—fuck,” Ed gasped, voice cracking.  “I hurt so bad.  I feel sick…”  Roy could hear Ed beginning to gasp raggedly on the other end of the phone.

“Hey, Ed, it’s going to be okay.  I’m coming to get you right now.  Can you wait outside?  Maybe down the block?”

“No,” Ed gasped.  “I’m locked in my room.  Kimblee’s outside.”

At that, Roy realized—the pounding, and even a faint yelling, though he couldn’t hear the specifics.  “What—“

“I hit him.”  Ed laughed, a little panicked, but with more than a hint of triumph.  “And strangled him, and—oh god, Roy, I fucked him up _so bad—_ “  He laughed again, even more manic.  “He’s gonna kill me, but it was so fuckin’—“

“Ed.”  Roy’s throat had tightened with sheer, unadulterated _terror_ as he snatched up his keys _._  “I’m coming as fast as I can.  Is the door sturdy?”

“I don’t know—oh, shit,” Ed finished with a whisper, and in the background, Roy heard a crashing.

“ _YOU PIECE OF SHIT WHORE!_ ”

A loud clatter rang through Roy’s ear as the crashing increased—and then a nasty splintering sound overtook it all.  Roy threw his car into gear and sped out of the parking lot as quickly as humanly possible, and as he turned onto the road, he heard the screaming begin.

“Ed!” he gasped.  “ _ED!_ ”

But the only response he got was the screaming, fading more and more into the distance.

—

He walked in to more screams.

Roy tried to keep his stride steady and purposeful.  Tried not to rush forward the moment he heard Ed cry out.  The moment he rounded the corner and saw Ed curled up in the middle of the room, Kimblee standing over him, drawing a foot back to kick him again.

He also didn’t miss the money scattered around, or the way Kimblee’s hair, usually so perfect, was in total disarray.

In all his life, Roy had never wanted to _murder_ someone so badly.  If had had a gun, he might have, right then and there, might have killed them all.  He did have his knife strapped to his belt, which tempted him.  As it were, at least one of the men here was carrying; he knew that he’d have to play this cleverly to get them both out of here, especially Ed, alive.

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream.

Finally ready, calm and collected outwardly, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, hiding his furious trembling.

“What’s all this?” he drawled.

Kimblee whirled, a twisted, vicious expression on his face, and as Roy got closer, he could see that Kimblee had scratch marks all over his face and neck, even the beginnings of bruising, and a bloody lip and nose.  He felt a flame of fierce, vicious pride spark in his chest, though he hid it.

“Little bitch tried attacking me,” Kimblee spat, wiping the blood on his nose, only managing to smear it around.  “Needs to learn his place.”

Roy took another step forward, pitching his voice to be low and silky.  “I can help out with that.  I know how to make ‘em scream.”

Kimblee scoffed, glaring over.  “So do we.  Why do you even care?”

Roy glanced around.  The doors, where he knew Kimblee’s prostitutes, were all shut tight, with the exception of one, which had been busted down.

“You’ve got the finest stock in the city.  If you get in trouble for fucking up one whore, that’s a lot of quality material off the streets.”

Kimblee stepped back, gesturing at one of the other men, who took over, slamming a fist into Ed’s gut, leaving him curled and coughing.  Now, Roy could actually see him, and the sight left him cold.

He had a hard time recognizing him, under the blood and bruises.  His hair had clearly been wrenched, his own lip busted twice as badly as Kimblee’s, and wheezing painfully.

And Ed was watching Roy with horror.

“I’m not fucking up a whore.”  Kimblee shrugged idly.  “Besides, aren’t you the one who’s in love with him?”

Roy let out a disbelieving laugh, though the words left his throat tight.  “In _love?_  Nah, he’s just got a nice, tight ass.  I actually came lookin’ for someone to give a nice roughing up to, and hey, if I can do you a favor, maybe you can do me one.  You want him punished, and I’m a sick bastard like that.”  Roy reached into his pocket and pulled out several hundred dollars, most of it from the bills he had quietly picked up from the ground around the room.

“You sick fuck!” Ed screamed suddenly, and when Roy glanced at him, it taking everything he had to keep his expression neutral, Ed was glaring at him with furious, red-rimmed eyes.  “You fucking traitor!”

“See?”  Roy managed to get out convincingly around a tight chest.  “He knows.”

Roy didn’t blame Ed, not really, for thinking it, but it twisted like a knife to the gut all the same.  Ed hadn’t had many people in his life to trust for a long time—had _any_ people to trust, really, but knowing that Ed could believe this of him—

It nearly destroyed him.

Kimblee watched Roy for a moment, but that seemed to convince him.  “Sure.  Whatever.”

Roy stepped forward.  “He’ll never cause you problems again when I’m through with him.”

Kimblee snorted.  “ _That_ one?  I doubt it, but good luck.”

“No!”  One of the men had picked up Ed, who was now dry sobbing, and shoved him towards Roy.  “Roy, please, no!”

Roy hated that he had to drag Ed as he followed Kimblee, but Ed continued to struggle against him.  He eventually settled for hauling Ed over his shoulder, wondering when he would get the chance to make a break for it—

And then Kimblee opened one of the doors, smirking through the blood.  Through the opening, Roy could see whips and chains, and his gut twisted.

“Enjoy.”

And Roy stepped through, the door closing behind them, Ed screaming.  Despite his efforts to put Ed down gently, Roy still staggered due to Ed’s struggling, and Ed crashed against him for a moment before leaping away.

Roy turned to lock the door, then back towards Ed—

Who held a knife in both of his hands, the blade pointed towards Roy.

Roy patted for his own, then grimaced.  Of course he had let the kid get the drop on him.

“Get the fuck away from me,” Ed babbled.  “I swear, I’ll do it—I can’t fucking do this anymore—“

“Darling,” Roy began, quietly, completely dropping the persona of the man who had bragged about wanting to make him scream.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Fucking liar!” Ed screamed back, voice breaking, and he lunged forward with the knife.  Not with intent to stab, but to force Roy back.

Roy backed.  Backed up a few steps, precisely, lifting his hands and looking Ed in the eye.  “Ed, I wouldn’t have faked all these months of knowing you just for this.  I’m getting you out of here today.  You’re never coming back to this, okay?  We just need to figure out a plan on how to make that happen.”

Ed shook his head slowly, watching Roy desperately, and he _thought_ Ed was starting to believe him, but—but he was clearly still so very fucked up.  “I can’t—he won’t let me—I can’t do this anymore.”  He looked down at the knife.

It nearly destroyed Roy, watching Ed break like this.

Ed shook his head slowly, still watching the knife, then began to lower it, looking lost.

And then he gripped it, turned it around, and slashed towards his wrist.

Roy’s police training took over, and he lunged forward, disarming Ed neatly and pinning him to the floor.

“No!” Ed screamed, trying to lunge for the knife, but Roy had him pinned, ignoring the obscenities that spilled forth from Ed’s mouth, holding him as tightly as he could without hurting him.

“Calm down, Ed.  We need to get out of here.”

Ed stiffened, then sagged, shaking, his fight suddenly gone, dry sobbing again.  “Why do you care?”  His miserable voice punched another hole in an already bullet-ridden heart.  “Why do you fucking care?  It’s saps like me that keep you in fucking business.”

Roy took a deep breath, trying to keep his calm.  “You don’t want this.  You don’t want the drugs, and I’m not going to force them on you.”

“But why do you care?”  Ed still didn’t believe Roy.  Roy could tell.

“Because you deserve better than this.”

“No I don’t,” Ed moaned, miserable and defeated.  “I’m just some—some drugged-up, washed out whore, who begs for it when you get the right poison into him, and fuck, if I didn’t already have twelve fucking different diseases rotting me up I probably do now.”

“That doesn’t change a goddamn thing, Ed,” Roy sighed, turning a little, trying to shift his hold into a cradle.  Ed let him.  “You’re addicted, and that’s not your fault.  You’ve been raped countless times, and that’s not your fault either.  Even if you had gotten into this willingly, you want out now, and that means you deserve a second chance, no matter who you are or what you’ve done.”

“No I don’t.”  And it killed Roy, to hear him so broken.  “I don’t.  I’m a piece of trash.”

“No, Angel.”  And he couldn’t help but shiver when he said the word, with everything it meant to him.  “You’re worth so much more than you think you are.”

Ed finally let out a broken gasp and collapsed into Roy, burying his face into his chest and clinging to his clothes and whispering, “God, I wanna be dead.”

“I’m so sorry,” Roy murmured, holding him.

Ed only shook his head and burrowed deeper.

They sat, the silence stretching on, until Ed spoke up again.

“I couldn’t have.”

“Couldn’t have what?” Roy answered, voice soothing.

“Made it.”  Ed’s voice cracked again.  “Lived.  If you had turned out to be…”  He shuddered and gasped.

“If I had turned out to be like those other men?”

“Yeah.”  Ed tried to clear his throat, but his voice stayed hoarse.  “You’re… the only one, who’s ever… even Al and Winry don’t know.  Who’s ever thought I deserve fuckin’ more than bein’ a place to dump their come after seein’ what I turned into.”

Roy shook his head, slowly but firmly.  “You deserve everything, Ed.”

The despairing laugh only made it more obvious that Ed didn’t believe it.

Roy would prove him wrong.  He had to.  “We need to figure out how to get out of here.”

“Walk out,” Ed croaked dryly, wincing and rubbing at his eyes.  “Fuck, I have some cash stashed in my room.”

Roy let out a huff of disbelieving laughter.  “You think we can just walk out?”

“If you took me, yeah.”  Ed closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then swiped at his nose, starting the bleeding fresh.

“Ed!”

Ed winced, then reopened his eyes, glaring.  “Gotta make it look real, okay?”

“You shouldn’t hurt yourself, though!”  Roy stared in horror at the blood.

Ed snorted.  “This is your hangup?  At least get me some rope.”

Roy rummaged around and eventually settled on one of the more flexible whips.  “Yes, this is my hangup.”

When he turned back, Ed was actually rolling his eyes, and Roy smiled faintly.  “Haven’t you killed people before?”

“Seeing innocent people hurt is not the same thing.”

“Even when it’s their idea?”  Ed sighed, shook his head, and put his hands behind his back, turning around.

Roy tied a convincing-looking knot, but ensured that Ed had the loose end so he could tug it and get out if he needed.  “How dead can you pretend to be?”

“Real dead.  Some guys like that.”

Roy couldn’t conceal his expression of disdain.  “Really?  They wanna fuck a corpse?”

“I don’t judge.”  He sighed.  “You sure you can’t bloody up my lip again or something?”

Roy shook his head, tying Ed’s ankles as well.  “It’s bloody enough already.  Besides,” he continued, forcing the words out.  “The bruises on your ass are coming up nicely.  Are you going to be all right until I can treat those?”

“I’ll be fine.”  Ed sounded so, so tired.  “Seriously.”

Roy nodded with a sigh.  “I’m gonna carry you out over my shoulder.  Be as dead-looking as possible, no matter what you hear, okay?”

Ed scowled at him, and despite everything, Roy was struck by the sudden thought that he was _adorable._

Roy leaned down, kissed Ed’s jaw gently, then hoisted him over his shoulder.

Despite his initial displeased noise, Ed went convincingly limp, and when Roy finally unlocked the door and stepped open, he looked very much the flushed and triumphant part.

Kimblee stepped up in front of him.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Gonna take him home.”  Roy shrugged, feigning nonchalance and a little disappointment.  “He passed out on me.  How much you want?”

“Full night’s fee,” Kimblee said flatly, and when Roy pulled out six hundred, Kimblee shook his head.  “Twelve hundred.”

Roy rolled his eyes, shoving everything he had into Kimblee’s hands.  “You’re getting a grand.  You’ve fucked him up way too bad for me to go to town the way I’d like.”

Kimblee smirked, pocketing the bills.  “I always knew you were really a sick fuck.”

“What gave it away?”

“Just a feeling.”  Kimblee shrugged, and the indifference with which he turned away from Roy left him _boiling._  “Enjoy.”  At that, he turned and stalked out of the room, leaving the mess of Ed’s beating behind him.

Roy glanced around, making sure no one was watching before poking his nose around for a few brief moments, then headed out of the building.  Keeping the act, he unlocked his door, tossed Ed into the back seat, and drove away.

“Fucker,” came the hiss from behind him.

Roy sped as quickly as he could, pulling out every trick he knew to ensure that they weren’t being followed.  “Does Kimblee know where I live?”

“Do I look stupid?”

Roy glanced up at the rearview, at the angry pair of golden eyes glaring over at him.  “Well, you are tied up in my back seat wearing nothing but a fishnet tank top.”

“Hey, I don’t look stupid.  This is hot.”

Though Roy snorted, the fact that Ed was already back to grumbling and joking after going through so much trauma in so short of a timespan worried him.

He looked into the rearview again, catching Ed’s eyes.  “You realize that you’re never going back, right?  That was the last time you’ll ever see that asshole.”

Ed inhaled sharply, and at the stunned look on his face, Roy wanted to reach back and hold him.

“I’m going to talk to a friend tonight.  She’ll know what rehab programs are the best.  If you want to leave all of this behind, all you have to do is say yes, and we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

Ed hunched his shoulders, slumping back.  “I don’t… Roy, I don’t have any money.  Everything’s back there.”  Roy saw him cover his face.  “Fuck.  We’ve gotta go back and get it.”

Roy shook his head, fingers clenching on the steering wheel at the thought of Ed even going _near_ that place again.  “We’re not going back.  You’re not going back.  Don’t worry about money.”

Ed let out a harsh bark of laughter, looking pained.  Roy winced; he probably shouldn’t have told something like that to Ed, of all people.   “Look, I—we’ll do it when he goes out, but I have some stuff—“

“I’ll send a friend,” Roy interrupted, voice firm.  “You tell her what you want and how to get to your room.  She’ll get your stuff.”

Ed sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.  “I’ll… make a list.”

“Good.”  At that, he pulled into his parking lot.  “There’s a jacket in the trunk.  Just a moment.”

He got Ed inside, and Ed immediately went for the couch, curling up on it, hunching in on himself.

“I’ll get you some clothes, Angel.  Why don’t you shower?”

Ed didn’t need a second invitation, dropping the jacket and tank top on the floor as he made a beeline for the bathroom.

Roy smiled faintly, making sure to set out some fresh towels, and then headed to the kitchen to start the enormous task of making sandwiches.

Ed eventually walked out, hair damp, completely naked as he strode towards the kitchen, sniffing, though this time it seemed to be a conscious action, not a side effect of the drugs.  Spotting the sandwiches, he snatched one up, shoving it into his mouth.

Roy laughed softly, charmed as always by the enthusiasm, but his smile quickly faded as he got a better look at Ed.

He hadn’t been lying when he had told Ed that the bruises were coming in nicely, and in the time between leaving and Ed’s shower ending, they had ripened even more and didn’t seem to be finished darkening.  Multiple finger marks, especially on his arms and shoulders, seemed to be even older, and a couple larger spots spread across his back, chest, and thighs.  One particularly nasty purpling on his side left Roy suspicious that some ribs might be cracked.  And, of course, the ouroboros tattoo on his shoulder stood out starkly against his skin.

Turning away, resisting the urge to return and _kill_ Kimblee, he set his jaw and walked out of the kitchen.

“Whraar awre yoo gooin’?”

Roy turned his head to raise an eyebrow at Ed, whose mouth was stuffed full.

He smiled softly, reaching over to push a bag of chips and a glass of water towards Ed as well.  “I’m making a list, so I don’t forget anything we need to do.”  Roy picked up a legal pad and two pens, tearing off the first page and setting it and a pen in front of Ed.  “For your list.  I’ll work on mine.”

“Wrike wat?” Ed asked, picking the pen in his left hand and beginning to scribble.  Roy did his best not to stare at the mottled bruises.

“Getting you new clothes, setting you up at rehab, getting you a new phone so you can keep in touch with your brother, going to buy food, things like that.”

Ed paused, then glanced down at the list.  Roy peered over to see that he had written “clothes” and “phone.”  After a pause, Ed scribbled through the two, then wrote in, “Just grab fucking everything okay”.

Roy tapped the back of his pen to the counter.  “How long will Kimblee assume you’re with me before he starts looking for you?”

“Fuck if I know.”  Ed sighed.  “Maybe a day or two?  Less, if my stuff goes missing.”

Roy nodded, writing another line.  “We’ll leave your stuff, at least for a couple of days.”

“No!”

When Roy glanced up at Ed, surprised, Ed’s eyes slid away.  “Just… don’t wanna give him a chance to fuck anything up, okay?” he said quickly.  A little too quickly.  “Can we get it as soon as possible?  You’re best off telling him that you dropped me off and haven’t seen me since.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Ed turned to look at Roy, a skeptical expression on his face.  “I’m worrying.”

“Seriously.”   Roy tried to smile encouragingly at him.  “I’ll be fine.  Kimblee can’t do anything to me.”  When Ed let out a pained laugh, Roy continued.  “I promise, he can’t.  And he can’t do anything to you, either.”

Ed just sighed.  “Okay, Roy.”

“Trust me?”  Though he said the words casually, his words constricted at the plea.  Not two hours ago, Ed had been screaming obscenities at Roy and calling him a traitor.

“You realize who you’re talking to.”

Roy smiled gently again.  “A genius?”

Ed choked, and Roy had the pleasure of watching his flush redden not just his face, but down his shoulders and chest as well.  “I—what?  No!  Just, I don’t trust people!”

Roy caught Ed’s gaze, held his own level.  “You trusted me enough to get you out of there.  Trust me a little more.”

Ed sighed, turning away, and muttered, “Fuckin’ fine.”

Roy couldn’t keep the grin off his face, and even the roll of Ed’s eyes couldn’t dampen the thrill in his chest.  “Do you want to put some clothes on?”

Nothing, of course, could be that easy with Ed.  “Do you want me to?” he shot back challengingly.

“I want you to do whatever makes you comfortable,” Roy replied calmly.

“What, so you don’t want to have sex with me?”  Ed turned and was now eyeing Roy skeptically.  “Or at least have me wandering around all wet and naked?”

Roy shook his head.  “You are under no obligation to have sex with me. For any reason.  I can sign something to that effect, if you’d like.”

Ed stared incredulously at him for a moment, then laughed helplessly at him.  “You think that’d help?”

Roy grimaced slightly; all right, he might not have thought that one completely through.  “What would help, then?”

Ed dropped the pen and threw his hands up in the air.  “How about turning the clock back four years?”

Roy sighed, ignoring the resulting twinge, the voice that whispered, ‘ _But then I wouldn’t have met you._ ’  “Can I do anything to help me avoid making situations uncomfortable, or putting pressure on you, at least?”

“I got nothin’.”

How had Roy forgotten how unbelievable _stubborn_ Edward could be?  How much talking to him could resemble beating his head against a wall?  “Can I count on you to let me know if something makes you uncomfortable, at least?”

Ed shrugged.  “Yeah.  Sure.”

“Can you promise me?”

“Fine!”  Ed pushed away, headed towards the bedroom, and Roy followed.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.  “If you’re feeling up to it, we can go to the store today and get you some clothes.”

Ed had vanished into Roy’s bedroom.  “Got some in my room!”

Roy continued to follow, watching critically as Ed slid a pair of Roy’s sweatpants over bruised thighs.  When Ed tied the drawstring, Roy was fairly sure that the dangling ends could have encircled Ed’s waist.  Twice.

“We can at least get you some t-shirts and underwear,” he said pointedly.

…Ed _did_ get a wistful look on his face at that bit.

Roy leaned over and kissed the top of Ed’s head gently.  “Find a shirt you like.  I’ll be outside.”

Closing the door behind him, he headed towards the other side of the apartment, making sure he was as far from Ed as possible before pulling out his phone and dialing.

“Yeah?” came the rough female voice on the other end.

“Martel?  It’s Roy.  I need a favor.”

  


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[ ](http://uchiha-umeko.tumblr.com/post/149624577836/yepyou-guys-know-exactly-what-this-means-i-am)

_Art by[Uchiha-Umeko](http://uchiha-umeko.tumblr.com/)_


	12. Chapter 12

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_Art by[Jujubee2522](http://jujubee2522.tumblr.com/)_

  


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Wearing underwear, Ed decided, was way better than sex had _ever_ been.

Well that one time might tie.   _Maybe._  But right now, if he had to choose between a repeat performance and his new boxers, the latter would win without a contest.

“How are you feeling?” came Roy’s warm voice from beside him.

Of course, there was still the matter of _that._

He watched Roy carefully, not sure if he was going to have to end up fucking a dozen guys for this or something.  “I still don’t fuckin’ get why you’re doing this.”

Roy didn’t even glance over, that obnoxiously serene expression on his face.  “Because you wanted out.  I wanted to help, however I could.”

“I still don’t get _why_ ,” Ed snapped, exasperation surging through him as he fidgeted, scratching at his palm idly.  God, Roy had put on _attractive_ clothes for the outing, khakis and a blue collared shirt.  Though he hadn’t mentioned why his wardrobe had suddenly taken a turn for the better, Ed had understood when they had walked into the store and Ed had gotten odd looks: though they knew that _someone_ had beaten the shit out of him, Roy was now too well-dressed for most people to feel comfortable saying anything.

(This, of course, had left Ed seething, both at the thought that fancy clothes could protect you because those motherfuckers deserved to get their asses arrested just as much as the next guy, and, even worse, the idea that _anyone_ could think Roy capable of that had him baring his teeth at anyone who looked at them even remotely askance.)

“Do I have to have a reason to help you?”

“Well, yeah.”  No one did something for nothing.

Roy sighed.  “I want to help because I think you deserve it.  You’ve been through a lot of shit, and I want to get you out of it.”

Ed scowled, looking away.  Seemed suspicious.  “That all, huh.”

“I don’t know what you’re taking issue with.”

“Who says I’m taking issue with anything?”

“You’re the one arguing and making angry faces.”

Ed whipped his head back around, outraged, mouth hanging open.  “This is just my face!”

He could see a smile curling up Roy’s mouth.  “Remember what I said?  Just trust me, all right?”

Ed sighed, relaxing back into the seat.  “Right.”

They exited the car when they got back to Roy’s apartment, Ed wincing as he did, and when he grabbed the plastic Wal-Mart bags.  Fuck, he couldn’t wait to collapse on the couch and not move for the rest of the evening.

His first night off in years, he realized with wonder.

When Roy unlocked the door and stepped in, Ed followed—and nearly ran into Roy’s ass.

“The fuck are you—!”

Roy stepped forward, allowing Ed in, then skirted to the side, setting down his share of the groceries.  He picked up a large cardboard box, peering inside.

He had a dopey grin on his face.  Even _more_ suspicious.  Ed squinted at him, trying to get a look at what was inside the box, and wondering who the hell had put it there.

His twelve-year-old grinning face, Al’s eleven-year-old shy smile, and his mother’s perfection beamed back at him.

Ed could have sagged in relief.

He took the picture and set it aside on the couch to make sure that it didn’t get broken, then plopped on the floor and started digging through it.  His phone, scuffed up but still functioning, the envelope of cash he kept stashed in a slit in his mattress, Al’s letters, some tight and/or see-through shirts, leather pants, sliced-up jeans, his favorite red jacket he never got to wear anymore…

Wait.

He had reached the bottom of the box already?

Fuck.  Fuck, fuck fuck—the relief that had consumed him moments ago had been replaced, this time with building panic.  He whirled around to dig through the pile of his worldly belongings, rifling through pockets, checking in folds—

It was gone.

“Fuck,” he gasped.  “They stole some stuff!”

Roy lifted his head, turning to watch him, concerned.  “What did they steal?”

“Just—stuff, okay?!  I can tell when shit is missing!”

Roy stepped over, kneeling next to him.  “If you tell me, I could help you find it.  See if it maybe dropped out somewhere.”

Ed glanced over at Roy, then away.  “I… I had more money than this.”

“All right,” he answered gently, and Ed kind of wanted to strangle him.  “How much is missing?”

“How about you just introduce me to whoever got this?”

“No can do.”

Ed gave Roy a sharp look, but he seemed impassive and calm as ever.  “And why the fuck not?”  Ed ran his fingers through his hair, then lowered his hands, twisting them together and digging his nails into his palms.  “Fuck.  Maybe they just didn’t get it.  I gotta go back.”

“Absolutely not.”  Now _there_ was the steel in Roy’s voice.  “You aren’t going back.  He’ll catch you and he’ll kill you.”

Right now, even that didn’t seem to be that dire of a consequence.  He _needed_ to go back.  “He won’t be there.  I’ll—I’ll be back.”  Grabbing a shoe, he headed towards the door.

Roy strode forward, blocking Ed’s exit.  “No.  You aren’t going back.”

Ed yanked backwards, glaring up at him.  “You can’t fucking tell me what to do!”

“I’m trying to protect you.  Please, we had this talk.  You’re going to be checked into rehab next week.  You can’t do that if Kimblee kills you today.”

“He won’t be there.  I’ll be careful!”

“Please, don’t go.  How much are you missing?  I’ll make up the difference.”  Roy reached for his wallet.  “You can do chores or something if you want to pay me back.”

“I’m not taking your fucking money!” Ed snarled, sudden rage, combined with frustration and desperation, welling up inside of him, and he reached out to try to move Roy aside.

Unfortunately, Roy probably weighed over twice what Ed did.

“Ed, please,” he continued, voice calm, not budging a single bit.  “Just be reasonable.  Going back there is asking for trouble.”

“You calling me unreasonable?!”  What a fucking stuck-up, self-righteous asshole!

“At the very least, not thinking this through!”

“I’ve fucking thought it through!”  And he had; he _needed_ to go.  “Now move!”

“No.  I’m not letting you go back there.

“So, what, I’m a prisoner now?  Or are you just gonna hold it against me until I agree to do something?  Do I gotta suck your dick to get you to move?”  Ed knew that he had transformed into something downright _hostile_ , but Roy was being _completely_ unreasonable.

“No!  God!  But if you go back, your stuff is missing, and that’s suspicious.  If you think he won’t beat the shit out of you for that, you’re delusional.”

“He won’t be there!  I told you!”

“Someone will tell him!”

“And I’ll be fuckin’ long gone with my shit.”

“No.”

The finality in Roy’s tone struck Ed like a slap across the face.  No trying to reason, no excuses, no threats or pleas or bargains.  Just “no.”

“Move, right now, or I swear to fuck I’m leaving for good!”

“If you’re looking for drugs, you’re not going to find them.”

Ed froze, and the entire room rang with silence for a heartbeat.  Two.  Three.  More.  Ed could feel the blood draining from his face.

“I—I don’t know what you’re fuckin’ talking about.”

Roy stared him down, dark eyes unmoving, expression impassive.  “I know she took the drugs.  She told me you had them.”

 _Fury_ lit through Ed, indignation, and he wanted to claw Roy’s eyes out with this—this _unfairness._  “The fuck was she going through my shit for!”

Roy didn’t look away, didn’t even seem to regret it one bit when he answered.  “I asked her to make sure there weren’t any drugs.”

Ed choked.  “Well, I don’t like people going through my shit without permission!”

Roy lifted his chin slightly, voice still calm.  “And I don’t like drugs in my house.”

Ed scoffed, turning away, pacing a bit.  Was _this_ what it was going to be like?  He had barely lasted this long—and now Roy was telling him _no?_  After keeping him satisfied for _months?_  Ed hadn’t gone this long without a hit in _years._  “You’re a drug dealer, you fuckin’ hypocrite!”

“I don’t keep my drugs here.”  When Ed glanced over, Roy had spread his hands in an invitation to search.

“Yeah, well, you can’t get on my case for having shit that you sell!”

“I can when you’re trying to get clean.”

“Well, maybe I’m not!”  The helplessness only made his fury worse, and he wanted to _scream._  “Fuck, what good are you if you can’t get me anything?”

Ed had hoped, honestly, that the words would get him a reaction, a flinch, even just a slight flicker of hurt in Roy’s eye.  But he kept calm, not even batting an eyelid.  “Do you want to go back to being a crack whore?  You said you wanted out, Ed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t fucking have to if you’d give me my shit.”

“This includes getting clean, Ed.”

“Fuck you!” Ed spat, nearly starting to tear up with frustration at the _unfairness_ of it all!  “God, the only reason I’ve stuck around you was to get free shit!  What good are you if you turn into _this!_  I might as _well_ just go back!  It’s better than being here with you!”

“We’re getting you into a rehab program,” Roy said solidly, still not giving Ed even an inkling of a reaction.

“Fuck you.  There is no we!”

“Fine.  I will drag you, kicking and screaming, through rehab, because you are better than this, Ed!”

Ed laughed bitterly, turning away.  “Oh, spare me.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you drugs.  And I’m not letting you out that door because you aren’t thinking clearly.”

“I’m not your fucking responsibility!”

“While you’re in this house, you are.”

“Then let me out of your shitty-ass house!”

“No.”

“Fine, you want me to make it worth your while?”  Ed laughed, almost hysterically, the realization setting in.  Of course.  Of course this was what it was.  He dropped to his knees, fumbling at the button on Roy’s pants.

But Roy just knelt until his face was even with Ed’s.  “No, I don’t want that either.”

Ed laughed again, desperately this time, trying to push him away.  “C’mon, Roy.  This is what it’s about.  This is what it’s always about.”

“Not with me.”

Ed whipped back to face Roy.  “Don’t be fucking _stupid!_ ” he screamed, voice cracking.

“Not with me.  And not anymore.”  Roy reached out, and Ed felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.

“Yes it was, you fucking liar—it’s about fucking me, always has been—“

“Please, Ed.  Trust me a little bit more.”  He reached out to take one of Ed’s hands, stopping it from going for Roy’s pants.  “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Ed laughed again, this time at the words, desperation bleeding through.  “You’re not making a sober existence sound real appealing.”

“It will get better.  I promise you.”

“Not without you,” Ed choked out, voice cracking again, badly.

Roy froze, and Ed could _see_ his breath stop for a moment.  “I’m sorry?”

“The fuck does that mean!” Ed spat.  Apologizing for fucking _what?_

“I’m not sure what you meant, Ed.”

God, what a fucking obtuse, infuriating, _maddening_ asshole.  Ed couldn’t fucking _stand_ him.  “I fucking meant what I said, bastard!”

“You… just said you were using me for drugs.  Then… that?”

“I don’t—you—that—“  What the fuck?  What the _fuck?_  How could Roy turn it around so easily on him?  He could feel his face beginning to heat up—

“Talk to me, Ed.”

“I’m fucking talking.  I don’t fucking like you.”  There; he had finally settled on _something_ to say.  He glared up at Roy.

…Who just nodded.  “That’s all right.  I’m still going to help you.”

No.  No, no, no.  That wasn’t _right._  How could Roy just—  Ed clutched his head in his hands, groaning softly.

“I need some, Roy,” he finally pleaded.  “Please.  Fuck.  Please.”

“No, Ed.  I’m sorry.”

“I’ll do anything, I swear.   _Anything!_ ”

“I know.  And that’s what I’m worried about.  Could you please go lie down?”

Ed laughed disbelievingly, but… Roy was serious.   _Serious._  His laugh turned harder, and he gasped, “Fuck.  Oh my god.  A dealer who’s trying to force me to stay sober.  Wonders never cease.”

Roy smiled over at him hesitantly.  “I never made any money off of you anyway,” he teased gently.

 _Money._  Ed’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, and he scrambled for his envelope, hope blooming in his chest.  “I could give you some!”

Roy shook his head.  “No, Ed.  That’s the opposite of what I want.”

Ed waved his excuses off.  This was what Roy wanted; how could he have been so stupid.  “I’ll give it to you!  What’s your price?”

“I’m not giving you drugs, Ed.”

“I’m not asking you to give them to me!  I’m asking to buy!”

“And I’m not selling them to you.”

The hope shattered.  Ed laughed desperately again, covering his face with his hands.  “You’re a piece of shit, Roy Mazda.”

“I’m aware,” Roy sighed.

Ed shot him a nasty look.  “I fucking hate you.”

“I know, Ed.”

Ed looked up at him, at Roy’s sad, sincere face, and both of their breaths seemed to catch for a moment as time held still.

And then Ed’s face twisted, then crumpled, exhaustion sweeping through him.

A light touch on his shoulders, and then Roy carefully wrapped his arms around him.  Ed collapsed, burying his face into Roy’s chest and clinging to him as tightly as he could.

“Things will get better, Ed,” Roy murmured as he pet Ed’s hair.  “I promise.”

“Don’t—don’t you dare fucking leave me, you piece of shit,” Ed choked out.  It was all he could do, all he could say against the emptiness threatening to consume him.

“I won’t.  I’ll be here for you.”

Ed laughed bitterly at the words.  And yet he didn’t want to sleep with Ed.  “Of course you will.  Just like a good… friend.”  He half-laughed, half-gasped the last word.

Roy sighed gently.  “We can make decisions about our relationship when you’re more cognizant.”

“Plenty fucking cognizant!” Ed spat.

“That’s fine,” Roy replied firmly.  “We’re still waiting.”

“Until when?”  And what did they have to discuss, anyway?

“Until you get out of rehab.”

Ed drew back, staring incredulously at Roy.  He was serious.  “Fuck rehab.”

“That is not particularly helpful in the process, or so I’ve heard.”

Ed rolled his eyes and muttered, “Rather fuck you.  But no.  Too high and mighty to fuck a dirty whore now.”

“No Ed.”  Roy rested his chin on top of Ed’s head.  “But you’re not thinking clearly.”

Ed laughed bitterly.  Fucking excuses.  He had had enough.

“No, I fucking get it.  I’m your charity case.  You don’t want me anymore.”

“I can’t, Angel.”  Roy ran his fingers through his hair, and despite his pride, Ed leaned into the contact.  “Now that you’re able to consent,  I can’t sleep with you until you’re in a place where you want to.”

What?  What the fuck?  “Of course I fucking consent,” Ed mumbled, but mostly to himself.  What the hell did Roy think that he had been doing?

Roy squeezed gently.  “We can still wait a little bit.  We’ve had a lot of sex before this.  And even without sex, that doesn’t change… change how I feel.”

Ed looked up at him.  Wait.  Roy wanted to _wait._  Which meant—  “You still want to?”  He—he tried to comprehend the words, but…

Roy nodded.  “I would, but only after you’ve gone through rehab, and only if you want to, then.”  Roy stood, gathering Ed carefully in his arms, and carried him to the couch.  “I know having sex was your job, for a long time, and that you couldn’t refuse to do it.  But now, you’re able to consent, which is beyond important to have in a partner.  Now that you’re capable, I need to wait until you’re in a position to give it.”

All this talk about consent and shit, Ed didn’t really get it.  But one thing came through, loud and clear.

He grabbed at Roy’s hand.  “But you—you wanna be with me.”  For a moment, Ed felt like Roy _had_ given him a hit of something.  “You still—you wanna date me.  You wanna be my boyfriend, not just fuck me,” he laughed disbelievingly.

“Yes, Angel,” Roy breathed.  “But it will take time.”

Ed only beamed at him.

With the sigh of a man giving in, Roy pulled him closer, laying on the couch, and Ed laid on top of him.  He buried his face in Roy’s chest.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” he whispered.

“Of course I do.”  Roy kissed his hair.  “But things might change when you get out of rehab.  You’ll probably realize that…”  He hesitated, swallowed, and continued.  “That you don’t want to date a drug dealer.  And that’s fine.  You’re destined for better things.”

Jesus, how could he say that shit and sound so _sincere?_  “No,” Ed replied firmly.  “I wanna be with you.”  He closed his eyes, laughing incredulously, a tentative joy creeping through him.  “Fuck, I thought I was so stupid.”

“Why?”

“A prostitute fallin’ for his client?  Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“I’m afraid I went the more stereotypical route, falling for the one I hired.”

Ed laughed softly, nuzzling into Roy’s chest.  “Yeah, but that just means I was doing my job right.  But fuck.”  He curled up a little, clutching Roy’s shirt.  “I didn’t know—fuck, I loved you so much, and everything you fucking saw me do…

“It didn’t change my opinion of you.”  Roy smoothed a hand down Ed’s back, and Ed shivered.  “How much sex you did or didn’t have doesn’t change who you are.  Anyone who believes otherwise is an asshole.”

Ed shook his head slowly.  “I didn’t even think you fucking cared, past the sex.”

“No, Ed.  I’ve loved you for a while.  It terrified me, watching you leave with other men.  I was so worried that they would hurt you.”

“Never wanted to leave with anyone but you,” Ed murmured, leaning in to kiss him.

Roy kissed him back once, then pulled away.  “Let’s watch a movie, and you can try to fall asleep, all right?”

Ed’s face twisted into a pained expression at the prospect of the evening.  “I’m not gonna be able to fall asleep, Roy.”

“Why not?”

“I just…”  He made a frustrated noise, sitting up, scratching at a palm.  “Just one fucking hit.   _Please?_ ”

Roy was silent for a moment, and Ed saw emotions flicker across his face, most too fast for Ed to recognize, though he caught a few.  Hurt.  Disbelief.  Doubt.  For a moment, he even looked a little ill.

“No.”  He kept his voice quiet and firm.

Fucking—seriously?  “What, you fucking say you love me and you can’t do this one fucking thing?”

Roy inhaled sharply, face going a few shades paler.

“You won’t believe me when I say you’ll thank me later.”  Though his voice was still mostly steady, Ed caught the hint of a tremble in it.

“No,” Ed snapped, anger returning.  “I fucking won’t!”

“I’m sorry.”  He reached out, trying to tug Ed back down.  “Please stop asking.”

Ed twisted away.  “Fuck!”  He buried his face in his hands.  “Can you at least give me a fucking smoke?”

Roy sighed.  “As long as you go out onto the balcony.”

“Don’t have a fucking cigarette,” Ed muttered.  Even if he _had_ had any in his room, Roy would have had them fucking confiscated, he was sure.

Roy stood abruptly, sending Ed sprawling onto the couch.  Though it didn’t hurt, Ed yelped in surprise.  A few moments later, the pack of cigarettes that Roy had pickpocketed from Kimblee all that time ago sailed through the air, sending Ed ducking and landing on one of the couch cushions.

Ed snatched it up, smiling bitterly.  “Kicking me out already, huh?”  With that, he turned, heading out to the balcony.

He _hadn’t_ expected Roy to follow him outside.

Ed glanced over to see him playing with the lighter, then held out his cigarette.

Once it was lit, Ed took a deep breath, then exhaled the smoke, leaning onto the balcony.

It calmed him, just a little.  He smiled bitterly.  If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up addicted to these, too.  He stared out towards the street, so very, very tired.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Roy spoke.

“Can you make it until Monday?”

“Monday?”

Roy nodded.

Ed’s nails dug at his palms, trying to get _some_ relief from the itch.  “Fuck.”  He reached up to cover his face, rubbing it against his hands.  “I can try.”

Roy nodded.  “That’s all I can ask.”

Ed inhaled on the cigarette.  “Roy, look.  I could just—I could—just something to get me through until then.”  He glanced down at his palms, scratching them again, narrowly avoiding burning himself.  “Fuck.”

“No, Ed.  You’re trying to get clean.”

Ed groaned, in pain at the very thought, and started scratching more.

Roy reached out to grab his wrist.  “If I have to duct tape oven mitts to your hands, I will.”

Ed yanked his wrist away.  “Not my fucking fault!  You got any fucking cortisone?  Or is that not allowed either?”

Roy nodded with a sigh.  “I have cortisone, but this is from the withdrawal.  If I let it go, you’ll scratch your hands off.”

Ed lift his hands, displaying the red spots that had appeared on his palms; they had been there since he had woken up, but the itch had just started to bother him.  “They’re on my feet, too.  Don’t think that’s withdrawal.  Unless that would cause a rash.”

Roy’s eyebrows shot up, and he watched the hands for a moment.  “All right.  Once you’re done, we’ll put cortisone on it.  We can go down to the clinic tomorrow.  I’ll schedule an appointment.”

“Clinic?”  Ed squinted at Roy suspiciously.  “It’s probably just bug bites or something.”

Roy shrugged, and Ed’s suspicion grew.  “Just going to make sure it’s an allergic reaction.”

“To what?”

“I don’t know.  People have a lot of allergies.  Maybe I use a different soap or something.  I just want to double check.  It’s the middle of winter; I doubt it’s bug bites.”

Ed stared down at his hand, smoke curling up from his other.  “You think it’s serious?”

“I don’t know.  I’m not a doctor.  That’s why I’d like to have it looked at.  We can get you tested, too, while we’re there.”

Ed swallowed, sickness starting to set in.  “You think it’s…”

“I just think it’s a good idea,” Roy cut in calmly.  “You said you hadn’t been before.  I should, too; I generally try to every six months, but I let that lapse a little.”

Ed finished his cigarette, then flicked it over the side of the balcony.  “I’ve been fucking sick, I’m sore…  That’s not an answer.”

“Yes it is.  You had the flu, yes, but you’re, what, twenty?  You need a lot of food, and of course you’re not getting it.  And given your former job, it’s no surprise that you’re sore.  And even if you are sick, it’ll be treatable.”

Ed wrapped his arms around himself, dread beginning to churn in his stomach.  “They still open?”

“You want to go tonight?”

“Well, yeah,” Ed croaked.

Roy pulled out his phone, and Ed watched as he made the call.

A few minutes and a “thank you” later, Roy hung up and looked over at Ed.

“They’re full tonight, but they have an opening tomorrow at eight?”

“Sure,” Ed sighed dully, and Roy tugged them back to his couch, then pulled Ed onto him again.

Though he had been convinced he would never fall asleep, not with the cravings settling into his bones, he soon found him nodding off, fingers curled in Roy’s shirt.


	13. Chapter 13

Roy’s phone read 11 p.m. when he finally scooped the sleeping Ed up, carrying him into his bedroom.  Ed curled into his chest, but didn’t move, and with some reluctance, Roy deposited him on the bed, tucking him in.

He watched Ed for a few moments, his chest rise and fall, the way the t-shirt practically swallowed him up.  He could have been a doll, with how fragile he looked.  With the softening of his face when he slept, probably the only time he was sober and not scowling.

Roy chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Ed’s face.

Then he turned, leaving the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and sat on the couch, head in his hands.

The tears leaked through his fingers and he took a deep, shuddering gasp.

_Of course it ended up this way._

The nasty, nagging voice, always a presence in the back of his mind, seemed to have reared its foul head and began its whispering in his ear in a way that he hadn’t felt since starting his antidepressants.

Loved him.  Ed had told Roy that he loved him, then turned around and tried to use the words to leverage Roy into giving him drugs.  Roy, idiot that he was, had let himself be caught up in the moment.  Believe it.   _Return_ those feelings.  Return the words.

And now Ed might very well be—was _probably_ faking it.  All of it.

_Well, what did you expect?_

He lifted his head, taking another shuddering breath, trying to settle his roiling emotions, but the tears continued to stream down his cheeks, and he had to cover his mouth to muffle himself.

He had to distract himself with _something._  With his plans for Ed, then—the clinic appointment tomorrow, the plans for rehab on Monday, making sure Ed _survived_ until then.  He knew very well that withdrawal could make a person suicidal, and coupled with the threat of illness…

He would make sure to keep the balcony door locked.

He wished that he could afford to spend all of his time around Ed, but in truth, this was very possibly the worst time for this to have happened.  And he had a meeting with Maes in twenty minutes.  Slipping a couple of things into his bag, he shoved a doorstop into the top of the balcony door, hoping that, if Ed did wake up and decide to try anything desperate, that would provide a tall enough obstacle.

—

“God, you look like hell.”

“Which is, coincidentally, where you can go,” Roy snapped.  “Don’t have time for this, Maes.  Let’s finalize this and get out of here.”

“Shit, Roy,” Maes muttered.  “It’s not like you have to make your quota anymore.  What’s eating you?”

Roy swallowed, then scowled.  “None of your business.”

Maes peered at Roy’s face, narrowing his eyes…

“It’s that kid, isn’t it?  Ed?”

Roy jerked his head up, glaring back.  “And what makes you think that?”

“Because it’s _always_ him with you.  What did he do now?”

One of the many reasons Roy had been selected for this job was his acting skills, but right now… right now he glanced at Maes, then looked away.

“No—shit, don’t tell me Roy.  He’s not—“  At Roy’s continued determined expression _away_ from him, Maes sucked in a breath through his teeth.  “He’s staying with you!”

“Look, Maes, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You can’t do this, Roy!  You could ruin everything, when we’re so close!”

“I won’t—“

“ _He_ might!”

“He’s not going to.  I swear.  He’s locked in my apartment, and he’s going to stay there until the operation is done.  He’s getting clean, Maes.  He starts rehab on Monday.”  Though he hadn’t meant to let Maes see how frantic he was, he knew his desperation was showing through.

“Roy, we don’t—look, I know we talked about plans, but we still don’t have a go-ahead.  We need something solid.  Something to get us in there, something we can _prove_ , right now—“

Roy thrust the square leather case into Maes’s chest, cutting him off.  “Open it.”

Giving him a suspicious look, Maes flipped open the front of the case.  “It’s an iPad.”

“Watch it.”

Maes pressed the button, unlocking the tablet, which opened straight to the video app.  He hit play.

They stood in mostly silence for several minutes.  Maes got much further than Roy had managed.

“This is…” he choked out.

“Yes.  It’s Ed.  And that’s why he _is_ staying with me.  And it’s also your smoking gun.”  Roy had to look away; he had barely managed to force himself to touch it when he had toed it underneath one of the couches for Martel to swipe later.

“An arrest warrant for rape, getting us into the place, and that’ll give us enough to search it.”  Maes finally turned it off, the noises going blessedly silent.  “So I guess that puts us right on schedule.”

“And you have him to thank for it,” Roy said coolly, enunciating every word.  “Just remember what you saw, the next time you try to lecture me about keeping him safe.”

“Hey, as long as it doesn’t blow your cover, Roy, do what you want.  But it’s your job to keep him under watch until this goes down.”

Roy hoisted the bag up onto his shoulder.  “I will.  And I’ll be there.  Watch for my signal.”


	14. Chapter 14

Ed awoke to a gentle nudge and, when that didn’t work, firmer shaking.  Someone wanted him up.  But Ed didn’t _wanna_ get up.

“Angel?  Wake up.  We have to get to your appointment.

Ed sat bolt upright, blinking sleepily, and he could tell that he had bedhead from hell.  “Fuck.”

He caught sight of Roy smiling crookedly at him from next to him on the bed.  “It’s all right.  You still have about an hour.  I didn’t know how long it would take for you to get ready.”

Ed groaned, glancing over at the clock.  Too fucking early.   He flopped back onto the bed.  “Might as well just give me back to Kimblee.”

“No,” Roy cut in, very serious.

Ed just raised an eyebrow, very not serious.

“You’re not going back.  No matter what.”

Ed laughed softly.  “So damn solemn.”

“It’s true.”

Ed huffed.  “It was a joke, Roy.  Let me make them while I still can.”  Though the words had an affectionate tone, the seriousness of the situation loomed over them like a stormcloud.

“Ed.”  Roy reached a hand out to gently straighten some of the worse behaved strands of hair.  Ed could have told him to leave his bangs; they never cooperated.  “You don’t know anything yet.”

“Yeah, true—shit,” he hissed, as pain shot through his right shoulder when he tried to push himself up.  “Ow.”

Roy froze.  “What’s the matter?”

Ed glared over at the offending shoulder.  “Probably pulled something.  Who knows.”

Roy stood, kissing Ed’s temple.  “We’ll get that looked at today as well.  Try not to use it too often.”

Ed grimaced, trying and failing to resist the urge to roll it.  “Ow.  Well, at least I’m left-handed.”

With a sigh, Roy picked up a brush, moving over to sit behind Ed and running it through the strands.  He was infuriatingly gentle about it—Ed had to wonder how he was getting anything done!  “Brush harder; you gotta, to get out the tangles.  I’ve got a thick scalp.”

“To match your skull, apparently.”

“Hey, fuck you.”  But the pressure increased, and Ed felt his hair start to detangle.  He turned, which left him wincing and Roy pushing him back into place, but eventually settled, staring ahead.

“Should just cut it,” he muttered, scowling.

“If you’d like.”  A finger traced down Ed’s left shoulder, and he shivered.  “I think it’s beautiful, though.”

Ed snorted.  “What good has being beautiful ever done for me?”

“It’s your decision.  We can go get it cut, too, if you’d like?”

Ed sighed.  “Let’s go get stuck with needles first.  Fuck.”  And then something else, something _horrible_ , dawned on him.  “ _Fuck._  If I have something, and you’ve been fucking me— _fuck!_ ”  Ed turned to look at Roy, horrified, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.  “If I gave you something…”  He knew Roy could have never given him anything, but the thought that he might have tainted _Roy_ …

Roy ran a finger gently down Ed’s face.  “I’ve always insisted on using condoms, remember?”

Ed continued to stare.  “Yeah, but sometimes that doesn’t make a difference.”

“If it comes to that,” Roy said gently, “we’ll figure something out.  Again, we would both be treatable.”

Ed turned back, curling in on himself.  Roy took his head and gently tilted it back and continued brushing.  “Fuck.  Of course I fucked this up—god, I can’t believe I—“

“You haven’t fucked anything up.”  Roy leaned in and kissed his temple, letting Ed’s hair fall down his back.  “Sometimes things happen.  I’m not blaming you, and even if the worst is true, it doesn’t make you any less of a person, or worthy of love and respect.”

Ed shook his head.  Roy’s words were pretty, but that’s all they were, and they felt as empty and hollow as Ed’s chest.  “This is _me_ we’re talking about.  Would be right up my fucking alley to have wrecked the best thing to happen to me since—in a fucking long time,” he finished dully.

“Why are you saying you’ve wrecked it, Angel?”

“You’re gonna end up sick or something, and it’ll be my fault.  I fucking poison everything I fucking touch.  Fucking glad Al is a thousand miles away so I can’t make it worse,” he spat.

Roy turned him gently, then took his face.  “Ed, I will be here as long as you want me to be.”  He swallowed.  “If you have chlamydia, or HIV, or cut your hair, or… I don’t know, start a death metal band, I’ll still be here for you.”

Ed yanked away, unable to understand the surge of panic coursing through him.  “But you don’t _deserve_ this!” he burst out, yelling.  “You don’t deserve to be stuck with my—my broken down, tired, sorry old ass who burned out before he was fucking twenty-one and is completely useless and if I got you fucking sick too—!”

“No, darling.”  Roy shook his head.  “I’m fine, and you’re fine.  It doesn’t look like it now, but things will get better.  I promise you.”

Ed laughed bitterly, turning away and flopping down onto his good side, staring off into space, trying not to think or even _be._  Roy seemed to understand the need for silence and didn’t speak either.

Finally, Ed said, “You got a hair tie?”

“No, I’m sorry.  I’ve never needed any.”

“Good thing, I guess.  You’d look terrible with long hair.”  Ed sighed.  “Ribbon or something?”

“Let me see.”  Ed heard Roy shift, then start to dig around.  Finally, he returned with a length of ribbon.  Ed pushed himself up, then tried to pull his hair back.  The jolt of pain through his shoulder was even worse than before, and he gasped and grabbed at it.

“What’s the matter?” Roy asked quickly, then glanced at Ed’s shoulder.  “Your injury?”

“Hurts,” Ed grumbled.  “Kimblee, I bet, or one of the other guys as they pinned me.”

Roy nodded, sitting behind him again, taking the ribbon and tying his hair back.  “We’ll get that checked out today too, all right?”

Ed snorted.  A clinic test he could pay for, but something like this?  “I don’t have health insurance.  Kimblee’s benefits package sucked.”

“No,” Roy replied, yanking the ribbon firmly into a bow.  “But I got a huge bonus from Bradley, so we’re getting you fixed up.”

Ed choked.  “You can’t waste your money on me!”

“I can spend my money however I want.”

Obnoxiously fucking serene indeed.  Ed just made a frustrated noise, hunching his good shoulder and sulking.

“Sorry, Ed.  But that’s what I choose to do with it.  It’s my own personal dig at Kimblee.”

“So that’s what I am,” Ed muttered, but he couldn’t help the smile that curved up at the corner of his mouth, or the smile in his voice that belied his true feelings on the matter.

“No.”  Roy stood, walking around to face Ed.  “You’re Ed, and my dig is that he didn’t deserve to have you, so now I’m using money that likely would have ended up going to him to make sure that not only do you never have to go back, but you live a full and happy life away from him.”

Ed just sighed, long and loud.  “Should we get going?”

Roy nodded, then offered his hand to help Ed up.

“Are you my sugar daddy now?” Ed asked as they headed towards the door, trying for a smirk.

“No, I’m a friend helping you out in a tough situation.”

“Damn.”  Grabbing his bright red hoodie, Ed limped out the door and down to the car.

—

Ed knew that Roy’s hand might fall off over the course of the visit, with how tightly Ed held it.  But he couldn’t force his fingers to loosen.

The wait, at least, wasn’t terrible; the two of them were in before ten minutes had passed, and Ed slunk up onto the bed, trying not to shake too hard.  Even with Roy’s words of encouragement, Ed didn’t calm down one bit.

The doctor stepped into the room, and Ed froze.  Roy squeezed his hand gently.  “You’re going to be just fine, Ed.”

“You!” Ed gasped, gaping at the woman.  He recognized her: she had been Roy’s doctor after the stabbing.  “You were…”

“I volunteer here sometimes.  Doctor Ross.”  She reached out to shake Ed’s hand, but he drew back, and she let her hand fall to the side.  “I actually know Mr. Mazda, somewhat.  He tends to make appointments when I’ll be around.”

“Because you’re the best,” Roy purred, and Ed went straight from anxiety to jealousy in approximately a third of a second.

“So, which of you is the patient today?”

“I am,” Ed spoke up.  “But this is my…”  He hesitated significantly, then finished, “Boyfriend.  And he wants to get… tested too.”  Ed mumbled the last bit, looking down.

Doctor Ross nodded, turning to one of the drawers.  “How many sexual partners have you had in the past year?”

Ed stared at her blankly, then swallowed, hard.  “I dunno.”

“Can you give an estimate?”

Ed glanced at Roy helplessly, choking a bit—Roy, he had to say this in front of _Roy_ , and feel his judgment…

But Roy only smiled encouragingly, looking supportive.

Ed mumbled, “Few… hundred, I guess.”

Doctor Ross barely blinked.  “Are you a sex worker?”

“Yeah.”  Ed wrapped his arms around himself defensively.  “I was.”

“Can you give me a percentage of condom use?”

Ed glanced over at Roy again.  “Ssssev… sixt… fifty, maybe?” he finally finished, trying to sound optimistic.

She nodded.  “Okay, thank you.  Would you say that you’re out of the business, then?”

Roy kissed Ed’s hand, and Ed glanced over at him.  “For now, I fuckin’ hope so.”  God, what did Roy have to be thinking?  The possibilities, the thoughts, frantically tumbled around in his mind…

“What about drug use?  Any sharing needles?”

Ed shook his head at that.  “I don’t… from what I remember, anyway.  I tried to be careful about that much.”  It wasn’t like he got any extra money from that.

She proceeded to ask him details, and though he was tempted to lie, he answered everything at Roy’s prodding.  The crack, the heroin.  The meth.

“And you two would like to be tested together?”

Roy nodded and squeezed his hand.  She asked Roy the same questions, and Ed listened as Roy answered: four to six partners, including Ed, always condoms, never sharing needles, though occasional heroin.  Really, he was too busy trying not to puke to listen after the first couple of answers.

When Roy finished, Ed glanced down, mumbling, “Hands.”

“Right.”  Roy tugged Ed’s hand forward, turning it over.  It had stopped itching, but the red spots seemed to have gotten worse.  Ed glanced up at her sullenly.

Ed answered further questions, glancing back over to Roy, who was staring at Ed’s arm looking like he might cry.  Ed glanced down at it: it wasn’t any worse than usual. Yeah, the veins were showing through, but that was pretty normal.

A very intimate and detailed question snapped his head up, jaw dropping open.  “ _What?!_ ”

“It’s called a chancre,” Doctor Ross replied professionally.  “Usually presenting on the—“

“Fuck, okay, look, I know where it presents!” Ed gasped, mortified and shocked, then swallowed.  “I… yeah, yeah it’s there.”

She nodded.  “You have syphilis.”

Ed blinked, ears ringing.  “Huh?”

“I haven’t run the tests yet, and it will be a few days at least before we get the results, but I can say, definitively, that you have it, and I’d like to start treatment as soon as possible.”  She glanced over at Roy.  “Any other similar symptoms?”

He shook his head, and Ed covered his face with his hands.

“If it helps, all of the symptoms you were concerned about can be explained by syphilis.  We’ll check for others, of course, but as far as infections go, it’s quite treatable.  Just a bit of penicillin and you’ll be good to go.”

Now, _that_ settled Ed’s nerves more than he could have imagined.  Treatable, and it could have been so much worse.

But she then pulled out the needles, and Ed groaned with horror.  And, well, having an STI still _sucked._

“This has gotta be the most humiliating experience of my life,” Ed gritted out, looking away towards Roy as Doctor Ross drew his blood.  “And I’ve had guys piss on my face.”

Roy jerked his head up, alarmed.  “You’ve had _what?_ ”

Ed shot him a funny look.  “You need me to repeat it?”

“Some guy pissed on you?”

“Guys.  Multiple.”

Roy scowled.  “How many?”

“I dunno, enough.  It’s whatever.”  Really, he couldn’t even muster any more energy to be indignant or even too humiliated, what with the roller coaster of emotions in the past ten minutes.

“It’s—it’s _whatever?_ ” Roy sputtered.

“Yeah.  Guys do that.”  Ed winced as Doctor Ross drew the blood.  “What, you’ve never wanted to?”

“No.  That’s... always struck me as rude.  Bringing it up without knowing the person, or if they were possibly being pressured into anything.”

Ed shrugged.  “Well, like I said, it’s whatever.  My point was just that it was humiliating.”

“I imagine.”

Ed shot him an exasperated look.  “I meant the fuckin’ questions!”  He hissed again as Doctor Ross withdrew the needle, then discarded it, telling them that she would be back to take Roy’s in a moment.  “God, you don’t—you don’t get it.”

Roy ran his hand over Ed’s thigh.  “Explain it to me, then.  I’d like to understand.”

“You got to just… ugh, sit down and…  Four, five, six?  D’you know what it’s like to have to look a doctor in the face and say, “Yeah, I wanna make sure I’m not terminally ill, but haven’t made a single damn effort not to keep myself that way, or make sure the people I fuck do?  How fucking selfish is that!” he finished, laughing desperately.  “Whatever I have, I deserve.”

“Ed.”  Roy took his hand again, running his thumb over the back.  “Regardless of what you did, or what you were forced to do, that makes no difference.  You don’t deserve anything for what you did, because you didn’t do anything _wrong._  Regardless of whether you made someone use a condom or not.”

Ed laughed desperately, wondering if nausea was a symptom of syphilis or just him.  “God, if you had…”

“If I had?”

“Fucked me without one.”

Roy kissed the back of his hand.  “It wasn’t a worry.  I use them frequently.”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m the happy hooker.”

“You don’t seem very happy to me,” Roy said mildly.  “We’re going to be okay either way, Ed.  I’m not going to let you give up on this.”

The doctor returned, then proceeded to take Roy’s blood.  Roy seemed to have a much easier time with the needles, but Ed had to look away anyway.

Then came time for Ed’s own shot of penicillin, and he made a face the entire time.  Roy laughed, and Ed glared.

“If this is your only STI,” Doctor Ross murmured, “you’ve been very lucky.  Try to be more careful from now on?”

Ed turned to glare at her.  “Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that?”

“Ed,” Roy admonished.  “Be nice.  She’s trying.”

“Yeah, well, so’m I!” Ed snapped, unreasonably disgruntled.

“I know you can try harder.”

“To do what!”

“To be nice!”

“I’m being nice!”

Roy rolled his eyes, and Ed caught a snicker from Doctor Ross’s direction.  He peered at her, hard.

“Is there anything else I can do?” she asked pleasantly.

“His shoulder,” Roy said, at the same time Ed said, “No, let’s go.”

Ed grimaced and turned to glare again, but Roy only smiled back at him.

Serenely obnoxious was damn right.

—

“Fuck, can you believe I was this lucky?” Ed laughed, a spring in his step, as they headed out to the car.

Not many people would consider syphilis as well as a fractured shoulder that would need surgery to be fixed completely to be ‘lucky,’ but hell, he had penicillin and Doctor Ross had said keeping the shoulder immobilized for a while would help it heal.  He could deal with a little pain.  And though she had forbade him any prescription painkillers, he was allowed ibuprofen.

He’d be fine.

Roy tugged Ed closer to drop a kiss on his forehead.  “I’d say it’s about time.”

As they arrived at the car, Ed reached up to grab Roy’s face, tugged him down, and kissed him on the mouth, affectionately and lingering.  Roy kissed him back for a long minute, and Ed could feel himself begin to relax.

“How’s the withdrawal?”

Well, not _anymore._  Ed winced and pulled back, muttering, “Wish you hadn’t fuckin’ asked me that.”  He knew that the true withdrawal hadn’t set in yet, that these cravings would get a hundred times worse, and the thought… well, he wanted a hit.  He looked up at Roy pathetically.  “Can’t I have like weed or something?”  He had never smoked the drug, but fuck, it had to be _something._

“You can have cigarettes,” Roy told him firmly, as they got into the car and drove away.  “Occasionally.  But no drugs.  At all.”

_Ugh_.  “Cigarettes are gross,” Ed muttered, turning away.

Roy blinked.  “I thought you liked them.”

“I smoke them, but they’re gross.”

“Then why do you smoke them?”

Ed squinted at Roy, searching for some kind of indulgence, for condescension, but found none.  “Because it’s better than the alternative.”

“Which is?”  Roy parked, and Ed glanced around, surprised at the short length of the trip—until he saw that they had pulled into Ed’s favorite pizza place.

Ed tried to keep up his sulking, but his lips did curve upwards at the prospect of food as they walked inside.  “Havin’ to cope with not having them.”

Roy sighed as the waiter sat them in the booth.  “You’ll learn how to cope.  That’s exactly what rehab is for.”

Ed sighed, flopping into the booth, then laid his head on the table.  “Tell me I’m pretty.  And useful.  And fucking worth the space I take up on the planet.”  He didn’t even bother hiding the disgust he felt at himself for having to ask, but the high—the little high he had been allowed—from the good news earlier had all but worn off.

Roy reached across the table to run his fingers through Ed’s hair.  “You’re gorgeous, and amazing, and you’re worth far more than you give yourself credit for.”

Ed laughed bitterly.  He had shown Roy exactly how desperate and pathetic he was, and it hadn’t even helped.  He’d take it, but that didn’t mean he believed it.

“Hey.”  Roy nudged him as gently as his voice spoke.  “C’mon.  You’re being treated, you have medicine for your shoulder, and we have pizza.  It’s not all bad, right?”

Ed sighed, pushing himself up.  “Yeah,” he murmured, blinking at the menu kind of dazedly before setting it aside.  He already knew what he wanted, as always.  Instead, he watched Roy’s hand as it tucked itself into his own.  “I guess it’s not.”


	15. Chapter 15

Ed stared listlessly at the television screen, trying to process what was happening… but he didn’t know.  In fact, he hadn’t really known for the past thirty minutes of whatever it was they were watching.

He groaned and closed his eyes.  Too many lights, too many colors…

“Angel?  Everything all right?”

Ed turned his head into one of the couch pillows.  “Need more ibuprofen.  My head’s killing me.”

“You just had some; give it a few moments.”  Fingers brushed over Ed’s forehead, then froze.  “Ed.  You’re burning up.”

“Oh,” he murmured.  “That explains why I’m so cold, I guess.”  And when had he started shivering?  Just now?  Earlier?  Somehow, it seemed to have just… always been a state of existence.

Roy stood, setting Ed down on the couch, and Ed heard him walk away.  A few moments later, he returned.  “Open your mouth?”

“If you stick your dick in,” Ed slurred.  “I’m gonna bite—mmph!”  A piece of plastic slid inside, underneath his tongue, and when Ed cracked open an eye, he could see a thermometer.

Roy pulled it out when it beeped, then sighed.  “A fever.  You said you had a headache?  It sounds like what Doctor Ross mentioned, that it might be a side effect of the syphilis treatment.”

Oh yeah.  She had said something like that, hadn’t she?  Jaxheimer… something.  Who fucking knew.  Ed didn’t really care: he just groaned and turned to bury his face in the pillow again, muttering the foulest words he knew.

“This will probably only last a day or two, all right?  I’ll keep an eye on you for—for as long as I can.”  Arms slid underneath Ed, lifted him, and carried him to the bed.  “Let me know if you need anything?”

“Water,” Ed croaked, braving opening his eyes a little with the darkness of the room.  It left him _slightly_ better, but his head still pounded like someone was tap dancing on it.

Shivering, pitiful, and miserable.  The three words to describe what their night quickly became.

Roy doted on him, getting him anything he needed, which was better than lying around like this at Kimblee’s.  But it still fucking _sucked._

Roy lay next to him when he wasn’t fetching, holding his hands and murmuring soothing words and even, after Ed had sank a little further into his stupor, making conversation.

“So how did Kimblee find you in the first place?”

The question came out of the blue, but said in a way that made it clear he had been wondering for a while.  Ed huffed.  “Really?” he grumbled halfheartedly.

“I’m just curious.”

Ed grunted.  “I was looking for work.  No one was hiring and it sucked.  He grabbed me outside of a restaurant where I’d just interviewed.”

“And what did he say?” Roy asked, voice gentle.  Sympathetic.  Ed wanted to listen to it for the rest of his life.

“Asked if I was looking for work,” Ed murmured.  “Told him hell yeah, he said he could arrange somethin’.  Thought it was sketch as hell, but I was desperate, so I went with him.  Listened to him go on about how gorgeous I was and how I could make a killing workin’ for him.”

“And you agreed, at first?”

Ed winced at the memory.  “Told him I’d never… you know.  He said it wouldn’t be a problem.  He could show me everything, especially how much I could make, and I told him I needed a thousand bucks—Al’s second semester was starting—and he gave it to me.  No strings attached, he said, as long as I let him fuck me once, and he’d show me it wasn’t that bad.”  Ed groaned, closing his eyes, wishing this stupid fever were fucking _gone._  “God, I was so stupid.”

Roy sucked in a breath.  “You were a virgin?”

The word had never really meant much to Ed; what even counted as sex, anyway?  “I guess, yeah.  Hell, I hadn’t even cared enough to even kiss anyone by then.”

“Shit,” Roy breathed.  “And he told you you’d be whoring, straight off?”

“Not in so many words, but the word ‘hustling’ was dropped before we fucked, yeah.  I could take a hint.”

“Was he… at least nice, for your first time?”

“Is he ever nice?”  Ed giggled a little at the absurdity; after everything, _this_ was what Roy had decided to worry about?  God, Ed had been through way worse.

“He couldn’t even bring himself to be a decent partner for one time?”

“I mean, it didn’t totally suck.  Wasn’t the worst lay I’ve ever had.  Convinced me to get into the business, didn’t it?”  Ed shrugged.  “Worth taking for a grand.”

The drilling in his head returned, and he groaned.  Roy reached out to pet his hair.  “How’d he get you on the drugs?”

Ed sighed softly, turning to nuzzle into Roy’s hand.  “Well, I wasn’t making a grand a trick after that, and training sucked, because you had to learn how to do stuff and you wouldn’t get paid.  So I was just miserable and he thought I should ‘cheer up’.”  Ed smiled bitterly.  “Worked, didn’t it?”

“Did he force you to do it, the first time?” Roy murmured.

Ed groaned again.  “Strongly encouraged.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, Roy still petting Ed’s hair gently.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your family?”

Ed hunched in a little.  “Al went off to Maryland a couple years ago.  Right after we graduated.”

“Anyone else?”

“No.  I mean, the Rockbells might as well be, but… no.  They don’t live here anymore.”

“So no one knows where you are?”

“They know I’m still in Chicago.  Family house used to be a little bit away.  In the suburbs.  I moved up here to find work.  Guess I did.”

Roy sighed gently.  “You talk to them recently?”

“Called Al on the phone.  Wasn’t a whole lot of an option before that.  I have a PO box they send shit to, though.  Kimblee used to pick it up.”  Ed winced.  “Shit.  Kinda wanted to ask you about that, actually.”

“Yeah?”  Roy moved his hand to pet another spot.  Ed opened his eyes to watch him.

“D’you think I could… get my mail sent here?  Just as long as I’m staying,” Ed finished quickly.

Roy leaned in and kissed his temple.  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but if you choose to stay with me, we can get your mail sent wherever you want.”

“Mmkay.  I’ll let ‘em know.”  Ed took a deep breath, then closed his eyes again and buried his face in Roy’s hand.

“Do you want anything, Angel?”

“A fucking hit,” Ed muttered, but shit, the thought pissed him off.  “Or a fucking college education.  Man, as long as I’m sick as fuck I can be delirious, right?”

“It’s not delirium, Ed,” Roy murmured, encouraging.  “You might have to start small, community college and stuff, but there’s no shame in that.”

“Money, remember?” Ed sighed.  “I’m… hoping… Al gets a full ride to med school.  I mean, then I might be able to try for one myself, to undergrad.  Maybe they’ll give me another full ride myself.”  Ed winced, then buried his face in his hands.  “I’m fuckin’ selfish.”

“You’re not.  You deserve to go to school too.”

Ed just made a noncommittal noise.

They sat in silence for a few minutes more.  Again, it was Roy who broke it.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly.  “I mean, about us.”

Ed glanced up at him.  “Huh?”

“Did you… did you say you love me in hopes that I would give you drugs?”

Ed’s eyes _snapped_ open at that, and he had to take a moment to recover from being so blindsided before yanking back.  “Wh—the fuck, Roy!”  He winced, the noise causing his headache to worsen, but this was _more important_ than his pain!

Roy stared at him intently, and Ed could see that he _wanted_ to believe him.  “Your reaction yesterday was less than promising.”

Ed groaned.  “You don’t fucking believe me, is that it?  Fuck, Roy, I’m fucking _withdrawing_ —I have never felt shittier than I do right now, so ex fucking scuse me for not being convincing enough.”

“Yes,” Roy said firmly.  “You’re withdrawing.  And I know you want drugs badly enough to lie.”

Well, Roy wasn’t _wrong_ , but—  “Not about that!”

Roy met Ed’s eyes steadily, and Ed’s stomach sank, knowing that this was an argument he wouldn’t win.  “How can I be sure of that, Ed?”

Ed recoiled, desperate and panicked and horrified.  Fuck.   _Fuck._  He had fucked this up already—oh, god.  “How the fuck am I supposed to know!”

Roy frowned slightly.  “I’m sorry?”

“You’re the one who wants proof—“  Ed could fix this.  He could.  He tried to sit up.  “You want me to suck your dick?” he asked, agitated.  “I’d like if we could wait until I was better for you to fuck me, but—“

Roy reached out to Ed’s shoulder, pushing him back down.  “That has nothing to do with it.”  Roy swallowed, and for a moment, Ed could see the vulnerability on his face.  “I just… I want to know you weren’t lying.  Tell me that and I’ll believe you.”

Ed swallowed as well, then stared him straight in the eye.  “I wasn’t lying.  I fucking meant it.”

Roy blinked at Ed, and for a moment, Ed wondered if he was going to throw up, if he had ruined this for good—

But then Roy smiled.  “That’s all I wanted.  Thank you.  I love you, too.”

Ed watched him warily, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  “Seriously?”

Roy nodded, then reached out to take Ed’s hand, looking down at it.  “I didn’t want to accuse you of lying, but it hurt to think that you might have been, considering my own feelings for you.”

Ed watched Roy, then glanced down at their hands, feeling himself flush even more.  “I… oh.”

Roy rubbed at Ed’s hand gently.  “I do love you.  And I’m afraid that you’ll realize I’m not good enough for you.”

Ed scoffed, flopping over to lay down again.  “Flatterer.  I still don’t fuckin’ know why you stick around with me.”

“It’s not flattery, Ed.  You got a full ride to MIT.  That’s amazing.   _You’re_ amazing.”

“I’m not…”  But he knew protesting would do him no good.  Fucking sap.  Rolling forward, he buried his face in Roy’s chest, and Roy’s arms wrapped around him.

They lay in silence, Ed starting to nod off…

“Angel?”

“Mmm?”

“I… I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be leaving tonight.  I’ll try to be back by the morning, but I’ve got work to do.  I’ll try to wait until you go to sleep, but don’t panic if you wake up and I’m not here.”

Ed sighed, nodding, eyes still closed.  “Yeah.  ‘Kay.”

Honestly, if Ed didn’t sleep for the next twenty-four hours, he’d be shocked.

—

Ed hadn’t counted on the fever.

He woke, shivering and shaking, hot and cold at the same time, and utterly miserable.

His head was foggy and clouded, felt like it was stuffed with cotton.  His throat burned, his mouth stuck in on itself.  He needed water—he _needed_ —

He heeded a hit.

“Roy?” he slurred, pushing himself into a sitting position, but no one answered.

_Roy was gone._

The thought left him anxious for maybe a second or two, but was quickly swamped with a wave of sheer, overwhelming need.  Roy was gone.  He couldn’t stop Ed.

Panting, ignoring the flush in his cheeks, he shoved the covers back, shivering as the cool air hit his fevered skin.  But it barely registered: he had to hurry.

Ed staggered over to his stack of clothes.  No one would give him _anything_ dressed in Roy’s oversized pajamas, so he left them in a pile on Roy’s bedroom floor as he shoved his legs into leather pants, dug out a mesh tank top, and grabbed his hoodie.

He had to hurry.  Dionysus was within walking distance of Roy’s apartment, but not particularly _close._  As he closed the door behind him, the frigid winter air hit his face, and he tugged his hood up, hunching his shoulders and headed out.

If he had been lucky, someone would have spotted him and pulled their car up, offered to hire him for an hour or two, and Ed could have exchanged his services for some goods without even having to visit Dionysus.  But In the middle of winter, he couldn’t properly display himself, not without getting himself completely killed, possibly before getting his hit—and that would defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?  And no one wanted to roll down the window to expose themselves to the elements unless it was on a sure bet.

So he hurried, and froze, and couldn’t even bring himself to care about the dangers of wandering the worst part of town in the middle of the night.

He heard the club before he saw it.

The deep, rhythmic beat of the music shook through his bones, seeming to energize him with the promise of being lost in bliss, of leaving this misery behind.  And once he had it, he could turn a trick or two for some more, easy.

He jogged when he saw the entrance, reaching down to tug off his hoodie.  The bouncer recognized him, smirking slightly, and Ed tried to smile back, turning around to show the tattoo on the back of his shoulder.  With a nod, the bouncer waved him in.

The warmth of the club rolled over him, already putting him at ease, just a little.  He was close, so very close.  He hunched his shoulders a little, looking around cautiously for Roy, but he was nowhere to be seen, so Ed allowed himself to relax.

Relax, and look for customers.

He bunched the hoodie under his arm—no way in hell was he risking having to go back without it—and stepped forward, beginning to sway to the music.  He knew that he was a sight, especially with his golden hair worn down, the way he knew how to accent what little hip he had.

He caught someone watching him.  Eyeing him, even.  And he was alone, eyeing the crowd, but hadn’t joined it.  A good bet.  Ed smirked, sauntering up to him, tossing his hair as he did so.  The man’s eyes slid to him, raising an eyebrow, expression neutral.  He was handsome enough, with bright blue eyes and blond hair.  And tall, even taller than Roy.

“Hey gorgeous,” he purred, leaning in.

The man blinked in surprise for a moment, glancing around, as if uncertainly.

“No, I’m talkin’ to you.”  Ed cocked his hip, smirking up at him.  “Saw that you were alone.  Thought that was a shame, especially after takin’ a look at you.”

“Well aren’t you one for compliments,” the man murmured, glancing around again.  Ed caught a hint of a Southern US accent: out of town, then, and a good chance he was plenty repressed, too.  Even more perfect of a mark, he thought, almost deliriously happy.  He grinned, wide.

“One for a lot of things.  Like making your damn night, huh?”  He tilted his head, stepping in even closer.  “What d’you say we get outta here?  Suck your dick for seventy-five.  Fuck me for a hundred twenty-five.”  He smirked flirtatiously.  “Or a hit, if you got one.  Or wanna buy me one.  Can point out the ones who sell the best shit.”

“Oh, yeah?”  The guy reached out, and Ed leaned back into his arm, ignoring the twinge of disgust.  He’d be plenty high before having to do anything with this guy.  “Like who?”

Ed pointed to five of the biggest suppliers he knew; still no sign of Roy.  Good.

“Guy in the maroon shirt and khakis,” the man began as Ed pointed, “blue jacket and orange sneakers, braid and glasses and white t-shirt, Green Bay Packers jersey—shit, in this town?  Is he suicidal?—and pinstripe pants?”

Ed glanced over at him, frowning slightly.  “Yeah, why?”  Was his trick local after all?  He had known about how dumb of an idea the jersey was; even Ed knew that, and he didn’t give two shits about football.  At least, he thought it was football.

“No reason.”  The man’s arm tightened around him, almost uncomfortably.

“Okay—hey, what’s the matter?”  Ed frowned up at him, and for the first time, he caught sight of a small black device in his ear.

Before Ed could think to ask what it was, he heard a commotion from upstairs—yelling, shouts, almost screams.  Then more noises from the entrance, yelling, and banging—

Ed’s trick grabbed left wrist, wrenching it behind him.  “Hey, what gives—!”

The man grabbed the other, twisting it back, and Ed _screamed_ in pain.

“You are under arrest.  You have the right to—“

Ed yelped, lunging forward, trying to get away, and for once, his skinny wrists helped him, slipping out of the man’s grip.  Ignoring the screaming pain in his shoulder, Ed darted towards the crowd, trying to lose the cop—who had to be fucking _insane_ , going after someone in Dionysus like this—!

But a huge form crashed into him from behind, tackling Ed to the ground, and though he struggled as best he could, the man had to weigh at _least_ twice Ed’s weight.

“C’mon, kid,” the guy grunted.  “Don’t make me charge you for resisting arrest, too!”

Ed screamed as the cop hauled him towards the door, struggling wildly in a panic.  He _couldn’t_ go to jail—Al would have to drop out, and he wouldn’t ever see Roy again, and—

“Up there!” he heard a familiar voice call, and Ed’s head whipped around.

Maes stood in the middle of it all, gesturing to cops and coordinating them, yelling orders into a radio.  Maes, Roy’s friend.  In his shock, pieces began to fall into place.  The cops outside Roy’s door.  His paper pusher friend.  The _traitor!_

_FUCK!_

Ed snarled, and though Maes couldn’t have heard him, he glanced up and around, eventually meeting Ed’s gaze.  “You piece of _shit!_ ” he screamed, hoping he had heard _that._

Maes’s eyes widened, and he looked away quickly—

And then Ed couldn’t see him anymore, blocked by the rush of people.

The man eventually settled for carrying Ed, lugging him out into the parking lot, where Ed could see dozens and dozens of flashing blue lights.  He began to shake, nausea settling in the pit of his gut, and he wondered if the cop would drop him if Ed threw up on him.

He heaved experimentally, and the cop did quickly set him down, turning Ed away from him, but didn’t let go.

As he gasped and struggled some more, he spotted a familiar, tattooed form darting between the cop cars, getting closer to them, and then head directly for Ed.

“No!” Ed screamed, kicking so hard he lifted himself into the air, supported only by his arms—which hurt a fucking _lot_ , he had to say.  “You stupid idiot—get the fuck outta here!”  He knew that he was fucked, that he had fucked up his life and was a lost cause, but to see it happen to Roy, too—

He couldn’t let Roy get caught because of him.

Ed tried to lunge for the car, to distract the cop long enough for Roy to realize the situation and get away, but the man held him firmly, staring straight at Roy, as he reached for the car door.

Roy broke into a run, and the cop reached for his gun.

“No!” Ed shrieked, thrashing more.  “Please, don’t!  Don’t do it!”  He wasn’t sure if he was yelling at Roy or the cop, but neither listened, Roy advancing, the cop lifting—

“Officer Havoc!”

The cop froze, and Roy dug into his pocket, pulling something out.  Did he have a gun?  A knife?  Was he going to—

“Put down your weapon.  Did you forget what I looked like?”

The cop lowered the gun, but Ed barely noticed.  He was too busy staring at the badge in Roy’s hand.

He could feel the cop relax completely and sigh with relief.  “Jesus, Mustang.  You scared the hell out of me.”  He holstered the gun, his words ringing in Ed’s ears.

 _Mustang?_  Who the hell— _what_ the hell—  Ed stared, jaw open in horror, too weak with shock and illness to do anything more than sag in Havoc’s grip.

Roy nodded at Ed, holding out a hand.  “You can turn him over to me.”

The cop passed Ed over without a beat of hesitation, and as Roy’s hand grabbed his shoulder, Ed stared at Roy in betrayal, empty and numb.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a special kind of triumph, cuffing King Bradley himself and leading him outside as his entire operation collapsed into chaos around him.  An operation that Roy had spent two years inside, seeing the foul, disgusting advantage Bradley took of people, ruining lives and running rampant without any consequence whatsoever.

Now, there would be consequences.  And now, Roy would be the one to deliver them on a silver platter.

The officers outside cheered as Roy stepped out, handcuffed crime boss in hand, head lifted high at the ability to do the honors.  Bradley muttered dark things to Roy as Roy dragged him to one of the waiting police cruisers, but it didn’t bother Roy terribly.  When they were finished tonight, the only things left of Bradley’s operations would be a few lucky but terrified grunts and some dust.  Roy and Bradley both knew that his threats were completely hollow.

Roy relaxed as the door slammed on Bradley, the officer in the car driving him off.  He accepted a couple of hugs from friends, friends who he hadn’t seen in two years, then headed back inside to help with the arrests.

He had just made it past the flow of officers escorting criminals outward, however, when Maes hurried forward, nearly smacking into Roy.

“Roy,” he gasped, before Roy could get a single word in.  “Havoc.  Outside.  Find him.   _Now._ ”

Without waiting for Roy to even respond, he returned to coordinating the arrests, masterfully managing to direct a seething mass of humanity in what was probably about as orderly as it could have gotten.

Roy didn’t hesitate: he turned back around and ran out.

“Havoc?” he gasped at one of the officers guarding the perimeter, and the woman pointed.  Roy ran in the indicated direction, searching…

Until he saw the familiar officer, maybe a little more muscular than the last time Roy had seen him, and jogged towards him.

When he saw a tiny, struggling, familiar figure being dragged towards the cruiser, Roy _bolted._

Ignoring Ed’s screams for him to turn around and run away, Roy advanced with only one goal in mind: saving Ed.  It was this singlemindedness that kept him from realizing Havoc was going for his gun until he began to lift it.

“Officer Havoc!” Roy snapped, and Havoc froze.

Roy jammed his hand into his pocket to grab his badge, just in case.  “Put down your weapon.  Did you forget what I looked like?’

Havoc lowered the gun, beaming, and sighed with relief.  “Jesus, Mustang.  You scared the hell out of me.”

“You can hand him over to me,” Roy said quickly, holding out his arm, pleading for Havoc to understand.  He barely looked at Ed: his focus was still too much on saving him to be distracted.

Havoc didn’t even hesitate, and Ed seemed too limp with shock to fight.  For now.  “Sure thing, Chief.  He’s going in for solicitation; just offered to pick me up for cash or drugs.”

Roy felt like he had just been punched in the gut at the words; for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.  Oh.  When he glanced down, Ed had looked away, cringing, though the horror was still plain on his face.

Forcing his lungs to remember, he inhaled deeply.  “He’s been trying to get clean.  Made a lapse.  No need to get arrested for that, right?  I promise, of all Bradley’s prostitutes, this one’s not making any problems.”

“Sure thing.”  Havoc handed over his key, and Roy undid the handcuffs, handing them back to Havoc.

“He’s in withdrawal.  I can vouch for him.  He’s been pretty sick lately.”  Roy looked sternly down at Ed.  “I’m surprised to see him here.”

Ed’s eyes snapped open wide, and he lunged for Roy; only Havoc’s quick reflexes held him back, stopped his kick from connecting.  “I was looking for you, you fucking traitor!” Ed screamed.  “You piece of shit!  You snitch!  I wish I had fucking left you to bleed out in the fucking parking lot!”

Roy inhaled sharply, trying— _trying_ to remind himself that Ed was in pain, he was sick, he didn’t mean what he was saying.  Havoc raised an eyebrow at Roy, as if to ask, ‘you sure?’

Roy nodded.  “Go arrest someone who deserves it.”

Havoc brightened up.  “You see anyone in a Green Bay jersey?”  When Roy shook his head, Havoc bolted back towards the club, and Roy just shook his head, then turned back to Ed, who was glaring at him venomously.

“I’m not a snitch,” he replied calmly.  “I’ve been undercover.”

While Ed was still processing the words, Ed and Roy both caught sight of Kimblee being dragged into a car, spitting curses, and Roy could see a briefly vindicated expression on Ed’s face before it returned to anger directed at Roy.

“Under…”  The words finally seemed to click, and Ed, already pale from illness, went an impressively ghostly shade of white under his olive skin.  “You—you fucking—you’re a fucking…”  He let out a horrified gasp, then an anguished moan, and dropped to his knees.

Roy quickly knelt to catch him.  Though Ed struggled, eighty pounds of sick drug addict didn’t do much.  Roy had met cats that could put up more of a fight.

“Ed,” Roy murmured, holding him.  “This is a good thing.”

“You’re a fucking _cop!_ ” Ed spat at him.  “One of them!”

“Yes, and—Ed, I’m trying to _help_ you.”

“What fucking for?  You want a pet fucking hooker, that’s what this is?”  His struggling immediately stopped, and he sagged again.  “Fuck, I did drugs in front of a cop.”

“Ed, I’m not going to arrest you,” Roy murmured again, trying to keep his voice soothing.  “I meant everything I said about helping you get clean.”

Ed shook his head, terror on his face, and then looked up at Roy.  The expression of betrayal and disbelief nearly _destroyed_ him.  “I told you I loved you.”

Roy felt his legs weaken, and he felt the temptation to collapse the same way Ed had.  “And I love you, too.  That didn’t change,” Roy finished desperately.  He couldn’t lose Ed.  Not now.  Not like _this._

Ed shook his head, and Roy’s heart sank.  “I don’t even know who you are.”

“I’m the same person I was, just, I have a different last name and a different job.  That’s it.”

“Fuck you!”

“Ed, please, be reasonable about this!”

“Reasonable?   _Reasonable?_  Are you fucking—you’ve been lying to me the entire fucking time I knew you, and you think _I’m_ being unreasonable!”  Ed tried to struggle to his feet, and Roy tried to help, but Ed didn’t seem to be able to manage.

“Ed, please.  This is a better situation for you.  I’m sorry I lied.  You’re right.  But I couldn’t tell you.”

Ed twisted away with a bitter expression, just kneeling there in the parking lot, police lights all around them.

“Ed, please.”  He still couldn’t hide his desperation: in fact, it was growing.  “I’m sorry.  You aren’t getting arrested, though.  And we’re putting the sex workers who volunteer into rehab, instead of charging them.  I made Maes promise—“

Ed just glared up at him, clearly suspicious.  “I told you.  Cops don’t care about us.”

Roy took a deep breath.  He wished he could impress on Ed that yes, there were plenty awful police officers; Roy had met them himself.  But he had strove to put together a team who cared about people like Ed, who used their power to help victims, not abuse their authority.  But now was not the time.  “I care about you, Ed.  I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you, and switching careers doesn’t change that.”

“It fucking does.  It fucking changes a _lot_ of things.”

“Like what?”

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them; Ed’s nasty glare made that worse.  “Like the fact that you lied to me about who you are!”  Though Roy said nothing, Ed immediately looked like he had been punched in the stomach.  “I… I was part of your cover.”

“At the beginning.”  Roy practically stumbled over his words.  “That didn’t last long.  I genuinely care about you, Ed.”

Ed laughed bitterly, and it broke Roy’s heart to hear it.  “And now my turn to ask: why the fuck should I believe you?”

“Because,” Roy burst out, still desperate.  “Because I’m telling the truth now.  The only thing I’ve ever lied to you about was my job.  And I admit that I lied, right now.  And because I love you, it would break my heart if you thought I had lied to you about that.”  He took a deep breath.  “I’m… I’m going to let you go.  You can choose to stay or go.  I won’t stop you.”

“Damn fuckin’ straight you won’t,” Ed muttered, looking murderous.

Roy leaned back.  “I’m sorry, Ed.  But Bradley is a terrible person.  He’s violent and sadistic and he protects people like Kimblee.  He needed to go down, and this was the only way to do it.  We were just trying to protect people.”

Ed snorted, and Roy thought he might have caught a _glimpse_ of humor.  “God, he’s gonna be fuckin’ pissed.  He _loved_ you.”

“I know.”  Roy smirked.  “I arrested him.”

“Well,” Ed muttered.  “At least you people are finally good for something.”

“Did you miss the part where we’re sending addicts to rehab instead of jail?  And arrested Kimblee?”  Though Ed was still sulking, Roy thought he had caught at least a little bit of humor, enough for him to tease back.

Ed glared over at him.  “Just because my boyfriend’s a cop doesn’t mean I like them, and I’m still kneeling in a parking lot with a bum shoulder and my wrists raw from handcuff chafing, and not the good kind.  Not feeling very charitable towards you fuckers right now.”

Roy stared over at him, a grin spreading across his face despite himself.  “Boyfriend _is?_ ”

Ed rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, boyfriend who I’d fucking couch if he weren’t already too fucking honorable for either of our goods.”

“I’m pretty sure too honorable is a rather rare problem to have.”  His grin had turned into a wide smile.  “I’ll drop you off at the apartment.  If you could grab your stuff before tomorrow, that would be helpful.  That lease is only good until the end of this bust.  I have to go back to HQ and work on some reports.  Help with booking.”

“Wh… you want me to go back?”  Ed’s voice rose in pitch, and Roy shot him an odd look.

“Back to the apartment, yeah.”  He frowned slightly.  “I was planning on showing you my house tomorrow, but…”

“Alone,” Ed mumbled, then winced.  Probably at how pathetic it sounded.  Luckily for him, Roy only found that cute.

“Do you want to come with me?” he offered.  “I have a couch in my office, and under the desk makes a nice sleeping spot in a pinch.”

Ed stared at him.  “You have an office?” he asked, dazed.

“And I even wear suits to work.”

“You never owned a suit in your fucking life!”

Roy laughed softly.  “I have a closet full.  I’ll show you tomorrow.”  He tugged Ed up, leading him to his car.  “And my real last name is Mustang.  I’m a detective.”

“Mustang.  Fuck.  Seriously?”

“Yes.”  Roy opened the passenger door of his SUV.  “And guess what car I drive, when I give this one back to the department?”

“A Prius.”

Roy snorted.  “Of course I don’t drive a Prius.  That’s Maes.”  He jammed the keys into the ignition, missing a couple of times.  Those flashing lights were _really_ not that helpful.

“Well, maybe you seem like the type.”

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

When Roy glanced over at Ed, he was smirking.  “Hell yeah.”

Roy sighed heavily, looking away, taking in the mill of people still dragging others out of the club, the perimeter set up that continued to catch stragglers.  Unfortunately, being inside the car muffled the yelling and chaos too much for it to drown out Roy’s next words.  “I drive a Mustang.  Happy?”

“Yeah, now you can total this offense to nature.”

Roy glanced at the car around him.  “Actually, it’s the property of the police department.”

“Ugh.  Well, no accounting for municipal taste.”

“I think it was the result of someone in the department watching too much TV,” Roy mused, starting the car.

“Like I said.”  Ed paused, then glanced over at Roy, who watched him back.

“So,” Ed began.

“Yes?”

“All these months I’ve been riding Mustang, huh?”

Roy rolled his eyes, slamming on the gas.  “I’m _sure_ I’ve never heard that one before.”


	17. Chapter 17

Two hours ago, Ed couldn’t have imagined going into a police station, let alone near one.  Now, he was following his boyfriend into one, said boyfriend dragging the city’s most notorious crime lord behind him.

Bradley shot Ed nasty glances occasionally, and Ed did his best not to flinch away, but he couldn’t meet the man’s eyes, not even with Roy right there.

With his newfound determination, he might have been able to stand up to Bradley a few hours ago, before… before Roy had revealed himself.  But now, now he wasn’t sure this wasn’t all some elaborate ploy to get Ed thrown into a cell while freeing up a pair of handcuffs.

Roy didn’t look back.  Ed found himself relieved at that; he wasn’t sure he could have handled it.

Outside the station was, simply put, a mess.  Police lights everywhere, dealers and pimps and anyone else imaginable being dragged in.  Ed did glance around, trying to catch a glance of Kimblee again— _damn_ , that had been satisfying to see, despite everything else that had happened around it.

They were approaching now.  Taking a deep breath, Ed stepped through the doors—

To thunderous applause.

Ed nearly bolted at the sudden loud noise, but he stood his ground, glancing around wildly for the source, and soon realized that it _was_ coming from all around.

Roy simply strode forward, chin lifted, assessing the room with a confidence Ed had never seen from him before and basking in the adoration with a cockiness that Ed had _definitely_ seen before.  That much familiarity at least settled something in Ed enough to allow him to roll his eyes at Roy, the idiot.

Roy gestured for Ed to wait while he booked Bradley, and Ed watched, almost in awe, as Roy did so, completely in his element.  Forget cockiness; this was all confidence, and Ed had begun to suspect that it was very well-earned.

“Why the fuck are they clapping?” Ed muttered to no one in particular.

A man with black hair, glasses, a polo shirt, and who was even shorter than Ed glanced over in surprise.  “That’s Roy!  He brought in _King Bradley_ , and the serial killer that stabbed him.  And he still refused to get taken off his assignment.”

The words hit him with the force and shock of bowling balls.  “Stabbed by—“  He whirled to gape after Roy.  “Barry was a _serial killer?_ ”

The young man nodded.  “Yeah.  When Roy brought him in for assault, they ran a DNA test.  Turns out he’d been killing for years; the FBI had just never managed to track him down.  Found a few bodies under the floorboards, too.  We called him the chopper until we found out his name was Barry.  He tells all his cellmates about being Barry the Chopper.  They request changes pretty quickly.”

“Barry…“  Ed drew back, still stunned—and a little indignant.  “ _I_ caught that serial killer!”

“He really did.”

Ed jumped at Roy’s voice behind him, and he whirled, relaxing when he caught sight of him despite his lingering irritation.

“All I did was get the knife away from him.  Then I kinda passed out.”

“And almost fuckin’ _died_ ,” Ed muttered, hoping that his offended tone indicated how _rude_ he would have considered that.

“I’m sorry.”  Roy reached out to tuck Ed’s hair behind his ear.  “I’ll endeavor to not do that again.”

The other man—another police officer, Ed assumed—gave them an odd look, but shrugged when Roy smiled encouragingly at him.  Roy turned back to Ed.  “Let me show you to my office.”

“You know,” Ed muttered as Roy led him away.  “Most of the time, when people say that, I’m about to get very uncomfortably bent over a desk.”

“No, you’re only going to get some rest.”

The office actually said “Roy Mustang” on the door.

Roy shut it, then turned to point at the couch.  “That’s pretty comfortable.  I know from experience.  Under the desk is surprisingly nice as well, especially if you don’t want to be bothered.”

Ed turned to Roy, giving him a disbelieving, almost disgusted look.  “You’re fuckin’… _respectable._ ”

“I don’t know about that.  I have slept under my own desk.”

“But you have an _office._ ”  The reality of the situation began to sink in: Roy _was_ respectable.  He was much higher class than Ed could ever dream of being.  Back when they had both been street trash, they had worked, but it was becoming abundantly clear that Roy was way out of his league.

Roy tugged him in, kissed his forehead, then closed the blinds.  “Yes, I do.  And you can sleep here.  I’ve gotta—I need to help with booking.”

“Not tired,” Ed muttered, lying through his teeth.  “Also someone’s gonna mistake me for a crack whore if you leave me here.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in the booking area, Ed.  I’m sorry.  I can leave you my phone, if you want?  And the key to my office”

“Tell ‘em I’m an intern,” Ed muttered, but there was no force behind it.  He sighed, then limped over to curl up on the couch.

Roy knelt, leaning in to kiss his temple.  “If you need me, just ask any of the officers for me.”

“Yeah, then I _will_ end up in the booking area.”

Roy reached out to squeeze his hand.  “Thank you for staying with me.”  He laid his phone next to Ed.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll try to be quick.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When Roy finally stepped out, closing the door behind him, Ed swiped open the phone and spent the next hour destroying everyone on Roy’s friends list at trivia crack before finally falling asleep.

—

Ed woke up to a gentle nudge, blinking up at Roy in the low light.

“Let’s go, Angel.  We can go pick up our things, and then I can show you my house.  They’ve asked me to leave.”

Ed grunted, pushing himself up, blinking sleepily over at Roy.  “Why’s that?”

The smile on Roy’s face was more than a little sheepish.  “Too many threats.  And I suppose I’m not in dress code.”

Ed scowled ferociously at the thought.  “Send ‘em to me.  I’ll kick their ass.”

“I know you will, but sleep first?”  Roy helped him stand, then stumble out to the SUV.  Ed congratulated himself on making it out of a police station without being charged for anything, then promptly fell back asleep in the car.

When he woke again, the dawn illuminated the garage door in front of them.

“You have a fucking house,” Ed grumbled.  “Christ.”

“I do,” Roy murmured with a smile.

Ed just shook his head.  “Glad I didn’t tell anyone to send anything to your piece of shit apartment yet.”

“You’ll have a much nicer address for a while.”

“Right.”  Ed stumbled out of the car, scowling up at the house.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Roy sighed.  “I think you’ll like the house better.”

“Have you met me?  I don’t like anything.”

Roy walked over to take Ed’s hand.  “Surely there must be degrees of dislike, then?”

“Little bit, I guess,” Ed conceded, turning away from the garage and then proceeding to eye the door warily.

“What level am I at, after my stunt?”

Ed huffed.  “Maybe at your apartment level.”

Roy winced, and Ed didn’t bother telling him that compared to Ed’s usual places of residence, the apartment was _great._  “What if It told you that I have a Jacuzzi tub in my actual house?  And a freezer full of pizza that Maes has been stocking for me?”

Ed straightened immediately.  “Pizza?”  He squinted at Roy.  “But it is frozen.”

Roy shrugged, pulling out a key.  “I haven’t been here for ages.  I’m not quite sure what Maes put in my kitchen.”

“I’ll totally help you go through it,” he blurted, eager despite his attempts not to be.

“I’d be honored.”

Ed grimaced at that.  “Ugh, you’re so… _literate._  The fuck is this?”

“What do you mean?”  Roy poked through his ring of keys, trying to find the correct one.

“Just… now I know why a drug dealer had read Stephen Hawking.”

“I’ve read a lot of things.”

The door swung open, and Ed’s jaw dropped.

Hardwood floor.   _Stairs._  A goddamn two story house, and a chandelier, tasteful and elegant, hanging from the entryway.  Its floors had probably never seen anything close to the likes of what Ed’s shoes had tramped through.

“God,” Ed muttered.  “You probably even went to college.”

Roy chuckled softly.  “I did.  The military paid for it.  Criminology and Law and Society major.”

Ed scoffed.  “Law and fucking society.  How fucking perfect.”

“It’s important to understand those things.”  Roy tugged him through to the living room.  “But I can understand why you would be hesitant.”

“Just a fucking little hesitant.”

“You’ll like this place, Ed,” Roy murmured, smiling, and Ed took a look around.

Well, he wasn’t _wrong._  Two stories, brick, clean and well-kept, though it clearly needed some living in.  Ed was pretty sure he had never seen a television that nice in his _life._  And he had a fucking fireplace.  He knew that he looked like a moron, wandering through and gaping at everything, but he couldn’t help himself.

Still, he couldn’t let himself get _too_ excited.  That was just an invitation to have things snatched away from him.

“The fuck are there so many bathrooms for?” he muttered.  Nice as it was, some of the placing of the rooms were a little… strange.

Roy looked a little pained.  “It came that way.”

“Why the fuck’d you buy it?”

“It was cheap, and in a nice neighborhood.”

Ed snorted.  “ _Cheap._  I’m sure.  How much’d it cost?”

Roy muttered something, and Ed squinted.  “Can’t fuckin’ hear you.”

He coughed lightly.  “Four hundred and fifty thousand.”  Roy shrugged.   _Shrugged!_  “The neighbor’s house was seven hundred and fifty.  No one liked the odd construction of the place.”

Ed could only make a tiny, terrified noise, sounding a little like he’d just had his throat cut out.

“Undercover work pays better than you might expect.”

“And so do drugs,” Ed choked out.

“I didn’t get any money from the actual dealing.”

“What?  ‘Course you did!”

Roy shook his head.  “We’re donating the funds we’ve gotten to charities, and using it to help the victims of Bradley’s operation.  Some of it is paying off the costs of the operation, but most of it is going to the people who need it the most.  That was my insistence, when I pitched this.”

“You—you’re the one who pitched it?”

“Bradley needed to be stopped, Ed.  I had to push for it.  And with the cops Bradley’s had in his pocket, the way they’ve abused the power and trust put in them, we need to be giving back.”

Ed just made a displeased noise, looking away.

Roy squeezed Ed’s hand gently.  “Shall I show you to the guest room?”

Ed sighed, more resigned than irritated now.  “You have a fucking guest room.”

“And a study.”

Ed laughed helplessly.  “God.  How about a fully stocked bar?”

“Yes.”

Ed whipped his head to stare at Roy.  “You’re kidding.”

“No, assuming Maes hasn’t drunk it all.”  Roy tugged open what Ed had initially thought to be a cabinet, revealing a bar.

“I’ll remember that.”

“No.”  Roy turned and shot him a stern look.  “You’re not of age, and who knows what you might do under the influence.”

Ed groaned.  “Aw, c’mon, I’ll be twenty-one next month!”

Roy… immediately seemed to perk up.  “Really?  When!”

Ed froze, glancing around.  “I—nothing.  Anyway, what about pizza?”

Roy watched him carefully, but then, blessedly, nodded.  “Pizza.  In here.”

His goddamn kitchen had granite tabletops, a gas stove, _two_ ovens, more hardwood…  Jesus.  What did you _do_ with that many pots and pans?

Make a hell of a pizza, apparently.  Two pizzas.  Of which Ed planned to eat at least one.

“Have at it.”

Ed ate a pizza and a half.  Midway through his second slice, Roy stood to go poke around in the fridge.  “I can make cookies.  Maes got me a cheesecake.”

“How about both?” Ed suggested around a mouthful of cheese.

With a soft chuckle, Roy slid the cheesecake out onto the counter, then began pulling out flour, butter, sugar, and other things.  Shit, he was making them from _scratch?_  What couldn’t he do?  As if to reinforce his absolute fucking _perfection_ , he sliced a piece out, set it on a plate, and (albeit with a roll of his eyes) stuck a fork in the rest of it, setting it in front of Ed.

Ed did his best to only eat about a quarter of it.  He didn’t want to annoy Roy into kicking him out.  By the time he finished, the cookies had come out and the room smelled _heavenly._

“How are they?” Roy asked, smiling softly over at him.  Ed, mouth stuffed with approximately five, could only nod.  The pride and happiness on Roy’s face transformed him, making him even _more_ handsome, which was fucking unfair, and Ed could feel himself going a very red color and ducked his head.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been able to bake,” he said, looking blissful as he ate one.

“Did your oven back at the shithole even work?” Ed asked, when he could finally speak again.

“Barely,” Roy sighed, and as he ate, Ed watched him, a tight, funny feeling in his chest.  This was Roy, the real Roy, laid bare and open for him, and it was _for Ed_ , an open honesty that Ed reveled in, that touched him so deeply that he couldn’t even really hold Roy’s undercover status against him.  After all, he could have left Ed, could have let him take his chances in jail, or finding a free rehab clinic.  Roy could have vanished when his job was completed, never spoken to Ed again.  But he had stayed.

“So!”  Roy’s voice, bright and cheery, broke into Ed’s internal monologue.  “Do you like the house?”

Ed huffed, finishing a cookie.  “I… guess it doesn’t suck.”

“High praise, from you.”  He reached out to take Ed’s hand.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Ed grumbled.  “It’s seven in the morning, which is my goddamn bedtime, I’m sick as fuck, and I’m not thinking straight.”

“Would you like to get some proper sleep, then?”

“Guess we probably should, yeah.”

Roy squeezed Ed’s hand.  “Would you like the guest room?”

Ed lifted his head, watching Roy, trying to assess the question.  Did he want Ed to say yes?  No?  “I mean… if you want,” he began carefully.  “I don’t gotta.”

Roy lifted his hand from Ed’s to touch his cheek.  “It’s whatever makes you the most comfortable, Ed.”

Ed just snorted, but leaned into the contact.  “I could sleep on a fuckin’ rock.”

“That would be rather silly, since there are plenty of perfectly functional beds here.”

Ed sighed.  “Just… tell me where you want me to sleep.”

Roy stepped around the counter, then kissed Ed’s forehead.  “I don’t care.  It’s up to you.”  Leaning over onto the counter and watching Ed, he continued.  “I don’t want to… pressure you.  After what happened, I’m afraid of you trying to do what you think I want, and you not being ready for that.”

Ed stared.  “Wait, pressure me to what?”

“To have sex with you, to move this relationship faster than we need to, to… anything.”

The words hit Ed, hard, and he took a deep breath, struggling with the disbelief.  “Wait, wait.  You mean you still wanna have sex with me?”

“If we decide to include it in our relationship, yes.  But not right now.  For one, you’re recovering from an STI.  For another, I’d prefer to wait until you’re _sure_ you’re ready.”

Ed drew back slightly, watching Roy carefully, then smirked slowly.  “You think I’m hot and you wanna bang me.”

“That’s not what I said.”  But Roy smiled at him, fondness in the crinkles around the corners of his eyes.

“But am I wrong?” Ed challenged.

“Certainly not.  But… it seems sudden, and like I said—“

Ed shrugged.  “I didn’t say you could.  Just, y’know, reveling in the fact that you do.”  Ed smirked a little and walked past him, brushing slightly against him as he headed up to Roy’s room.

He heard a pleased sigh from behind him—what, did Roy _like_ Ed being a shit?  He supposed it was different than the high sex kitten act—and Roy fell into step behind him, apparently deciding ‘to hell with the dishes.’

“You want to know the best thing?”

Ed turned as Roy stepped into the room behind him.  “Me.”

“Second best, then,” he corrected as he quickly changed into pajamas, then laid back on the bed, groaning.  “Okay, third best.”

Ed just stripped, flopping down next to him—and promptly gasped.

“Holy shit, your fucking _bed._ ”

Roy nodded, clearly as blissed out as Ed intended to be in the next few minutes.  “Yes.  I missed it.  Anyway, the third best thing.”  He turned onto his side, watching Ed, still with that fond expression.  “When we wake up, there’s a _good_ coffeepot and semi-fresh cookies.”

Ed just hummed, scooting closer, and Roy reached over to turn out the lamp before turning over and pulling Ed close, burying his face in Ed’s hair.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured.

Ed inhaled sharply, the words sending a jolt through him.  “I… oh.”   _Oh._

Roy didn’t move, breathing deeply, and Ed could feel his mouth turn up in a smile.

“You could’ve,” Ed mumbled, closing his eyes as well.

“I could’ve what?”

“Done this.”

“Would have blown my cover, taking you back to my place.”

“I—y’mean, here.”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.”  Ed closed his eyes, heart doing the weirdest fluttering thing.  Roy had thought about this, about having Ed here, before he had even been forced to expose this side of his life to Ed.  He had already wanted Ed to be a part of it.

“Nothing,” Roy murmured, tugging Ed a little closer.  “Good night, Ed.”

Ed thought he might have said good night back, but sleep claimed him so quickly that he would never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ends part I! A bit of a breather... before the rest of it. They're not quite two fics (because I didn't want to come up with two titles), but can be interpreted as such.
> 
> Just be warned that angst does lie ahead before that happy ending.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [GUYS CHECK IT OUT THERE IS ART](https://uchiha-umeko.tumblr.com/post/149624577836/yepyou-guys-know-exactly-what-this-means-i-am)

Roy’s phone woke him up at ten a.m.

He would usually consider this a perfectly normal time to call him and wake him up, even if he would have _liked_ to sleep in a little later with his gorgeous, perfect boyfriend in his arms.  But granted that he had just gotten to sleep three hours ago, this was significantly less than ideal.

Admittedly, anyone calling might not have known that, but the only person who had his personal number and knew that he was back from being undercover was Maes, and Maes would have known.  Still, that meant that Maes was calling, even though he knew that Roy would probably be sleeping.  So Roy should probably answer.

_Ugh._

He fumbled for the phone, finally managing to swipe to answer.

“’Lo?” he mumbled, mostly asleep.

Beside him, he could see Ed stick his head up, golden hair sticking out like pieces of straw.  “Zzat?”

“Roy, I need to talk to you.  It’s important.”

Roy sighed, then reached out to run a hand down Ed’s back.  “Go back to sleep.  I’ll be back soon.”  Ed’s head flopped back down obediently, and Roy crept out into the study.

“Was that the kid?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s… about him.  Or, well, regarding him, too.”  Maes sighed, and Roy could practically see him running his fingers through his hair.

Roy frowned, waking up a little more.  “Yeah?  What’s going on, Maes?”

“You had him tested yet?”

“Yeah.”  Roy rubbed at one of his eyes.  “Waiting on a couple results.  He has syphilis, but got it treated.”

Maes began to pace, Roy could hear.  “We’ve been… doing lab work, on the guys we brought in.”

“Okay?”

“I had Kimblee’s run first.  Thought you’d… want that.”

“Maes, it’s ten in the morning after going to bed at seven and I was expecting to sleep in today.”

“He tested positive for HIV,” Maes finished gently.

Roy’s throat seemed to close up as a paralyzing, icy numbness crept through him.  He had to have misheard.  He _had_ to have—Ed couldn’t have this.  Not now.  Not now.

“Does he know how long?” he finally managed to croak.

“Gotta be at least three months.”

Roy inhaled sharply, choking out, “Shit.”

“Roy, you okay?” Maes asked gently.

“No.”  His voice cracked at that, and he closed his eyes.  “God, the night… Kimblee… that video, Kimblee fucked Ed.  Ed wanted out and…”  He took another deep breath.  “I’m going to kill him.”

Roy could picture Maes’s wince on the other end of the phone.  “You know that you can’t do illegal things and get away with it anymore.”

“Then put me undercover in the prison,” Roy spat, a sudden flare of rage melting his iciness, the only other thing he could feel.  “I’ll kill him for my reputation or something.”

“You’ve been a drug dealer for too long,” Maes sighed.  “You can’t kill him, Roy.”

“Give me one good reason not to.”  Roy took a shaky breath, then buried his face in his hands.  “He was doing so well, Maes.  He’s been talking about going to school again.”

“Roy… look, is Ed positive?”

“I don’t know.  We haven’t gotten that test back yet.”  Roy sighed.  “I set up an appointment with Maria, since she’d done the rest of my medical work to help keep my cover.  But since she’s been working off the books, she wasn’t able to run the rush test.  But… I wouldn’t…  He’s…  It’s very likely, now,” Roy finished quietly.

“Look,” Maes began carefully.  “You don’t know that Kimblee gave it to him.”

“And I don’t know that he didn’t.”

“I’m just saying, I imagine we’re gonna pick up a lot more guys who do.”

“But Kimblee is the sick fuck that forced him into this.  Even if he didn’t directly, then he’s responsible.”

“I know.  And I’m sorry.  We’re going to nail him, and nail him good.  If Ed is willing to testify…”

“I’ll see.”  Roy sighed.  “God.  This is going to destroy him.”

“You gonna tell him?”

“When he wakes up.  I guess.”  Roy couldn’t keep his utter defeat out of his voice, though he kept it hushed, so as not to wake Ed.

“You could… I mean, are you getting the test soon?”

“Today or tomorrow, yeah.”

“You could wait.”  Though Maes had no reason to be quiet, his voice had pitched to match Roy’s.

Roy recoiled.  “And then tell him I knew?  No.”

“I’m just saying.  If you think he’ll freak out…”

“He deserves to know!”

“Well, yeah, but…”  Maes sighed.  “I’m just saying, you could wait.”

“I wouldn’t do that to him.”  A lump had lodged its way into Roy’s throat.  “Not after lying to him about who I was.  I need to be honest.”

“Okay, Roy.  I just… I thought you’d want to know.  So you could be prepared.”

“Thanks.”  But his voice sounded rough, even to his own ears.

“Sorry to wake you up.  Get some sleep.”

He heard footsteps from the entrance to the study and lifted his head to see Ed, sleepy and wobbly, adorable with his bedhead and hands rubbing at his eyes.

“Bye, Maes.”  He hung up, then stood, heading over to Ed with his arms out and gently ushering him back towards the bedroom.  “Hey.  You should go back to sleep.”

Ed smiled crookedly up at him.  “But you’re not there.”  He yawned, jaw cracking.  “The fuck’d he want, anyway?”  But like that, even Ed couldn’t sound angry.

Roy watched Ed for a moment.  Not now.  Let him get some sleep first.  “Let’s just go back to bed,” he said gently, pushing him back to the room.

“Mmmmkay.”  He leaned as they walked, and Roy eventually scooped him up and carried him there, trying to relax and failing.

By the time the two of them laid down, Ed was asleep again, but Roy knew that he wouldn’t be for a long time.

—

The first thing Roy felt when he woke was Ed’s gentle nuzzling, and he sighed contentedly and cracked open his eyes.  Ed’s blissful face, he realized, was the only thing he ever wanted to wake up to in the morning again.

He leaned in and kissed him, gently, and Ed moaned softly and returned the favor.  Roy lost himself in the contact for a few minutes, pressing up against Ed as Ed returned in kind.

Finally, Ed pulled back, huffing.  “Make me some of this fuckin’ coffee you’ve been bitching about.”

Roy smiled at him gently.  “Gladly.”  The coffee maker at his apartment had been awful, and the prospect of using his own again had kept him going for his time undercover.  He slipped out of bed, shuffling to the kitchen.

And then he remembered.

Ed followed, and when the coffee finished, Roy poured it for both of them.  Grabbing a cookie, he dunked it in his coffee, trying to wake up enough to consider breakfast.

And to figure out how to tell Ed.

Roy watched him, blissful and content, as he sat at the table, still giving Roy’s house awed looks, like he couldn’t believe that he belonged here.  Roy wanted to reach out and hold him, to tell him that he always would, no matter what happened.

Ed sorted through the paper on the kitchen table, and it took Roy a moment to realize that it was mail.

“Hey, look.”  Ed lifted an envelope, priority overnight.  “Our test results are in.  Guess they sped them up after all.”  He squinted at it.  “But how’d they know to send it here?”

“Maria knew I was undercover, so she probably did.  And Maes must have picked it up,” Roy said, trying to keep his voice steady.  “He has a key.  We probably didn’t hear him.  Listen, Ed…”

“Hang on a sec.  You mind if I do the honors?”  Without waiting for a response, he slit the envelope open casually, tugging out the papers.  Roy held his breath.

“Hey, clean.  Cool.”  For a moment, Roy’s heart started beating again, but then Ed continued, squinting at the paper.  “Wait, this is for a… Roy Mazda?  Don’t think he exists.”  With a smirk, he handed it over to Roy.

Roy accepted it, and when he glanced down, he realized that his hands were shaking.

With a sigh, Ed pushed the mass of mail into something more resembling a pile, muttering about how much shit mail Roy had, and then pulled his own out.

His expression froze.

“Ed?”

Ed’s smirk slowly dropped off his face, but he said nothing.  Roy’s hope slid away with it.

“Ed, what’s…”  He closed his eyes for a moment.  “Positive?” he asked quietly.

Ed’s wide eyes slid up to Roy’s, and he looked fucking terrified.

Roy stood instinctively, reaching out to touch his arm.  “Ed, talk to me,” he murmured, cupping Ed’s face in his hand.

Ed flinched away, dropping the paper, gasping harshly.

Roy looked down.  HIV positive.

“Ed,” he murmured.  “Come here.”  Reaching out again, slowly and gently, he slid his arm around Ed’s shoulder.  Ed cringed in on himself, but didn’t tug away, so Roy pulled him in for a hug.

Ed didn’t reciprocate, only stood there, tense and stunned and breathing shallowly.

Roy swallowed.  “Kimblee was positive, too.  That’s what Maes called to tell me.  I was going to tell you, but then the test results, and…”

Ed let out a bark of harsh, ragged laughter that sounded more like he was trying to cry than anything resembling mirth.  “That fucker—that son of a bitch—”  With a deep, shaky breath, Ed spat, “I hope I fucking gave it to him!”  Yanking away, he whirled.  “I hope I fucking gave it to all of them!”

“We don’t know that yet,” Roy said gently, shaking his head.  “This isn’t…”  He reached out to touch Ed’s hand.  “This doesn’t change anything, Ed.”

Ed yanked his hand away, spinning again to watch Roy wildly.  “Doesn’t change anything?”  He laughed, hysteria cracking through.  “It fucking changes _everything._ ”  Ed paced back, running his hands through his hair.  “Every… single… fucking… one, who ever touched me, I hope they all have it.”  He laughed again, this time bitterness edging in with the hysteria, then turned to collapse in the chair, burying his face in his hands.

Roy stepped forward slowly, kneeling next to him.  “Ed, you can’t change that.  They’ll be put in jail and serve their time there.  They may have it, they may not.  Listen, it doesn’t change anything because you still need to get clean, and we need you to testify against Kimblee to put him away.  And you should still go to school.”

Ed scoffed.  “What’s the fucking point now?  I’m as good as dead.  Let me at the son of a bitch.  I’ll take care of him.  Then might as well give me enough of the good stuff that I won’t see the end of it.”

“No, you’re not.”  Roy kept his voice firm, and Ed glanced up, eyes still wild, surprised.  “If you get better, you have a good chance of living for a very long time.”

“The only thing I’m fucking good for at this point is a life insurance policy in my brother’s name.  And they probably won’t even give it to me, ‘cause I’m sick!”

“That’s not true,” Roy urged.  “This is… you don’t have to give up, Ed.”

Ed jerked his head up.  “Then what fucking else am I supposed to do?  Al’s gonna have to drop out, you’re gonna realize what a mistake this is and go, and I can’t even fucking blame you, I’m gonna fucking _die—!_ ”

With a strangled noise, tears rolled out of the corner of Ed’s eyes.  Roy inhaled softly; he had never seen Ed cry before this.  It settled something steel in his chest, even as his heart broke.  He couldn’t let this happen, not to Ed, not after everything.

Tugging over a chair, he sat in it, reaching his arms out to hold him.  “No.”  He shook his head.  “You won’t.  We’re going to get you healthy, and you’re going to stay that way, and… if you’re careful.  We’ll both be careful.  As for your brother, we’ll figure something out.  You can go to school.  You _can_ fight this, Ed.”

Ed let out a sob.  “I can’t—it’s fucking—“

And then he crumpled, into Roy’s chest, sobbing, hiccupping, gasping, shaking.  Roy didn’t say anything, but he held him tightly, rubbing his back and letting him cry.

Roy wasn’t entirely sure how long he did, but the room eventually grew quiet, besides the occasional hiccup, Ed’s hand curled loosely into Roy’s chest.

After he was silent for quite some time, Roy stilled his rubbing.  “You all right, love?”

“No,” came the hoarse reply.

Roy squeezed him gently.  “I’m not going to leave you.”  At Ed’s huff, Roy continued.  “It’s true.  I won’t leave you.”

Ed sighed, burying his face in Roy’s chest again.  “I’m damaged fucking goods, Roy.  In every sense of the word.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I fucking am,” Ed snorted, pulling back.  He crossed his arms and hunched over.  “I don’t know why I’m fucking surprised.”

“You’re not, Angel.”  Roy reached out to take Ed’s chin and turn it towards him.

“Surprised?” Ed grumbled.  “Yes I am.”

“You’re not damaged, Ed.  People aren’t like that.  You aren’t a package that I buy at the store.  You’re an individual that I fell in love with, and that isn’t going to change.”

Ed snorted again.  “Someone forgot how we met.”

“It’s still not like that.  You don’t become damaged.  There’s no universal norm for a person, so you can’t be…”  Roy sighed.  “You can’t be damaged goods, because there’s no standard for ‘undamaged.’”

“Well, I fucked myself up a lot.  Can’t deny that.”

“Making mistakes doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

“Maybe just not any mistake.  These did.”

“You aren’t lesser for being sick or injured, Ed.”

“Roy, I’m gutter trash.  I fucking know that,” Ed snapped.  “Because of my own fucking choices.  I’m sick, and it’s my fault.”

Roy drew back, watching Ed seriously.  “Would you apply your standards to someone else in your position?  Someone who needed to pay for his family to go to school, and made a bad decision that spiraled out of control?  Would you look them in the face and tell them it was all their fault?”

“I—that—I should have fucking known better!”

“That isn’t fair to say.  No one can predict the future.”  Roy reached forward, catching Ed’s wrist,   _needing_ him to understand.  “And this isn’t a punishment.  This isn’t something that happens _because_ you deserve it to.  That…”  He closed his eyes, shaking his head.  It hit too close to things he _had_ had thrown at him, nasty words and slurs and threats.  “There are plenty of people who like to call it a punishment.  But you have to understand, Ed, that—what you’re thinking, it’s garbage propaganda, spread by people who are no better than those cops who mocked your friend.  Having this, it doesn’t make you any less… deserving of love, or happiness.”

Ed drew back, running his fingers through his hair, beginning to pace.  “Well, fucking look at me _now._ ”

Roy sat up, watching him.  Was he getting through?  He thought he might be, but Ed… had always been a hard nut to crack.  “I’ve seen a lot, Ed, as a cop.  And right now… excuse me for saying that you look like the victim.  And you don’t blame the victim for the crime.  You let them make decisions about their recovery, and you respect their autonomy.”  He stood, stepping forward, next words forceful.  “It is not your fault, Ed.”

“I’m not a victim!” Ed snapped, recoiling back, as if trying to distance himself from the thought.

“You asked me what you looked like.”  Roy took a deep breath, trying to stifle his own dread, his own anguish at seeing Ed, so wonderful and bright and brilliant, like this.  “But you also look amazing.  You’ve survived so many things, and you’ve done so well…  You’re remarkable, Ed.  And just because you can’t see that right now doesn’t make it any less true.”

Ed watched him for a few moments, then shook his head, turning around to walk out of the room.

Roy followed, anxious—well, at least he couldn’t jump out of a tenth story window now—  But he might pack up and—

Ed whirled, glaring.  “What?”

“I’m worried about you,” he burst out with desperately.  “Please don’t leave, Ed.”

“I’m not leaving!  You’re just fucking following me!”

Despite the hostility in Ed’s words, Roy relaxed, just a bit, though he stopped and looked down.  “I’m sorry.”

And then he had to watch, helpless, as Ed vanished through the doorway into Roy’s room.

—

After an hour of research—how to cope with HIV, possible treatments, even school options—Roy brought Ed hot chocolate.  The muted relief in Ed’s eyes told him that he had made the right decision, and he noted to himself that he would need to keep Ed’s pride in mind from now on.  Make sure that he _really_ wanted to be doing what he chose to do.  Especially given that, for the longest time, choice for Ed had been nothing more than an illusion.

He sat on the bed, handing it over, and Ed leaned into him.  When Roy wrapped his arms around him, Ed began to squirm, and Roy released him immediately, just letting him lean.  Ed sipped at the hot chocolate slowly, eyes red and puffy.

God, he wanted to see Ed healthy.  Healthy, and happy, and not looking like he might collapse at the slightest bump and never get up again.

It would be a long road, but he would do it.

“So now what?” Ed muttered, handing over the empty mug.

“Whatever you want.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s whatever you want to do.”  Roy tried to keep his words gentle, encouraging.  Let Ed know that he _did_ have a choice now, and that it could be whatever he liked.

But Ed only made a disgusted noise and pulled away.

Roy sighed gently.  “It’s your first day out.  You deserve something nice.”

“Not what I meant, but sure.”

Roy turned to watch Ed.  “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant big perspective.”  Ed continued to stare straight ahead.  “Unless you think I should just lay around sulking.”

“Not unless you want to,” Roy answered carefully.  While he knew plenty about lying around and doing nothing, and how damaging it could be when you couldn’t get out of bed…  But after everything Ed had been through, he deserved some time to grieve.

Ed made a frustrated noise.  “I don’t know what I fucking want, okay?  I just want to be fucking better!”

“Okay.”  Roy kept his voice steady despite every word tumbling out of Ed’s mouth resembled Barry’s knife in his gut.  “It will take time, okay?  Just try to take it one day at a time.”

Ed scoffed, shaking his head.  “Stay useless, you mean.”

“No, I don’t.”  Roy let an edge of firmness and determination creep in.  “I mean recover.  Relax, then decide what you want to do.”

“Whatever you say, Mustang,” Ed muttered, and Roy winced a little, at his real name coming out of Ed’s mouth.

He took a deep breath, staring at the wall.  “I looked up Johns Hopkins tuition.  I can afford the payments this year.  More, if Al needs.  So you don’t have to worry about that.”

All was still and silent for a heartbeat.  Two.  Then Ed pulled back, turning to look at Roy, horrified.

“What?   _Why?_ ”

“Why what?”

“Did you?”

“So you don’t have to worry about it.”  Roy still tried to keep his voice gentle.  Let Ed know that he _wanted_ to do this.  “I figure we could do that for a while, then figure it out from there.”

But Ed just slumped, looking at the bed in front of him.  “Sure,” he said dully.

Roy winced.  That was the exact _opposite_ of what he had wanted.  “Ed, please.  Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything.  It’s not like you to just agree.”

“What other choice do I got?” he asked softly.  “I can’t say no.”

Roy swallowed.  Well, that hadn’t gone quite as planned.  “I… I just want to make sure you can recover.”

“I can recover.  I’m fine.”

“ _Without_ having to worry about your brother.”

“I’m worrying,” Ed muttered.

Choices.  Offer him choices.  “Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.”  Ed looked away, then sighed, standing.  “You wanted to go out?”

“Whatever you want to do.”

“Look,” Ed snapped.  “I really don’t fucking feel like making decisions right now, so please don’t fucking say that again.”

Roy lifted his hands, placating.  “Let’s just stay home.”

“Fine.  We’ll stay home then.”  Pacing for a moment, then whirling, he flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.  “Wanna fuck?”

Roy snorted at how oh-so-very _enthused_ Ed sounded.  “No.  I’ve never heard anyone sound less keen on the idea in my life.”

“You said you wanted to stay home,” Ed muttered.

“Yes.  We can watch movies, or you can, or nap, or read.  Anything.”

“I don’t really care.”  Ed crawled back into the bed, flopping on his side, facing away from Roy.

Roy laid down carefully.  “Can I touch you, Ed?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Roy scooted forward, curling around him, holding him as tightly as he could.  Still, Ed’s listlessness didn’t let up, and it just left Roy wondering, _How in the world am I going to fix this?_


	19. Chapter 19

Roy finally lured Ed out to the patio with the promise of food and coffee.

It was fucking _cold_ , though, and Ed made sure to bitch loudly enough that Roy knew how much he didn’t appreciate being dragged out into the Siberian winter.  But he eventually settled down with coffee and donuts—Maes’s gift, it seemed—and curled up to squint suspiciously at the sun.

Roy eventually gently pushed a laptop over in front of him, and Ed glanced at the screen.

The browser had several tabs open.  Ed decided to bite.  Clicking through them, he caught several options: community colleges.  University of Chicago.  Perdue.  Roy had at least gleaned out and discarded the religious ones; Ed had to give him credit for that.

But he still scoffed.

“You want me to go to school?”

“I do,” Roy said simply, watching him.

Ed pushed the computer away.  Yeah, right.  “Too much of a fuckin’ mess, or hadn’t you noticed?”

Roy pushed the computer back, unfazed.  “The structure will help you get used to doing things again, and you’ll appreciate the challenge.”

Ed snorted, but… hey, it was _something_ besides sitting—or lying—around.  With a sigh, he poked at some of the tabs.  Generic college website, generic university website…  With a sigh and a cautious glance at Roy, Ed clicked open a new tab and got to googling.

When Roy tilted his head over idly, Ed scowled and tilted it out of his view.  Roy shrugged—god, was the man unflappable?—and just went to refill his coffee.

But Ed’s fingers found him on the Harvard website again.  MIT.  Others.  And he couldn’t stop the twinges of wistfulness beginning to stir in his chest.

He thought of the dreams he had once had, of making a difference, of throwing himself into learning for _real_ , of being able to put real time towards it instead of quick google searches whenever he had the chance.  A quick browse through course catalogues led him to biochem departments, physics, mathematics, and god, Ed _wanted._

“Do you like any of them?”

Ed glanced up, startled at Roy’s voice.  Oh, yeah.  He was here.  Ed shrugged, closing the laptop firmly, and the determined expression on Ed’s face meant that Roy got the fuck out of the way as Ed strode inside to the printer.  He followed, watching with interest as Ed pulled papers from it, glancing them over.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Transcript requests.”  Ed glanced up.  “You know I can’t go to school and rehab, right?”

Roy nodded.  “The fall semester is about to end.  You can apply for spring and go to rehab before that.  Or you can stay in rehab longer and apply for summer, or next fall.”

Ed just sighed, glancing over the transcript requests.  “Applications for next fall are going on right now, if I wanna go to a full University.”  He scowled.  “Fuck.”

“Do you want to apply?”  Roy tilt his head, looking unfairly devastatingly attractive with his helpfulness.  “You can do that before you go to rehab.”

“Lots of fucking money,” Ed muttered, thinking wistfully of the wad of cash that signified the last of his independence, then set the papers down.  “I need a fucking job.”

Roy stepped forward.  “We’ll work on that after rehab.  For now, let’s just start applying, okay?”

“That’s what I’m gonna fucking do.”  For the first time since… since he could remember, even, he could feel determination flaring up in his chest, a plan hatching, a path forming.  Fuck this disease.  Fuck curling up and dying.  He was gonna fucking beat it all and come out on top.

He looked up, eyes burning as he stared at Roy.  “You got any envelopes?”

Roy led him to his study, brought him the laptop and offered him full reign of his stationery before kissing his temple.  “Let me know if you need anything.  I’ll let you focus.”

“Yeah.”  At that, he dug out his phone.

AP credits still applied, apparently.  One less thing to worry about.  Several representatives gave him a very helpful list of community college courses he could use to test out of other requirements.  He rooted around for any problems he might have applying, or reapplying, and didn’t find much that could deter him.

Roy brought him a sandwich and an encouraging smile, to which Ed nodded absently. When Ed finally got off the phone, a triumphant thrill running through him, he grinned fiercely at Roy.

“They cover the application fee if you’re bumfuck poor.  Did you know that?”

Roy grinned back.  “That’s great.  They do it for the military, too.  But I could have paid it for you.”  He reached out to run his fingers gently through Ed’s hair.  “How did it go?”

“I’m gonna do community college this semester.  Knock off some credits.  Missed early application, but they’ll let me in on their regular, I think.  Already got a list of classes I need.”  With a sigh, he glanced away, muttering, “Fucking FAFSAs.”

Roy snorted.  “Is prostitution taxable income?”

Ed glanced over at him.  “You really wanna ask Kimblee for a W-9?  He’ll be fucking blaming me once he finds out.”

“It could be funny, watching him splutter.”

Ed snorted.  “Yeah, take me in.  But no, I did my taxes last year without him.  The IRS doesn’t care if your income is illegal as long as you pay them.  I’ll do ‘em again.”  When he glanced up, Roy was watching him, clearly impressed.  “What?”

Roy stepped forward, leaning in to kiss Ed’s temple.  “I hope you never cease amazing me.”

Ed choked at that, feeling his face heat again—god, Roy really needed to stop doing that—and turned away.

“It is amazing, though.  I also talked to a friend of mine, Tim Marcoh, and he said there’s a spot opening in their rehab program on Monday.  He’s got the best track record around.  And we can go get dinner, to celebrate.”

Ignoring the comment about rehab—he could burn that bridge when he came to it—he perked up.  “Food?”

Roy nodded.  “Italian good?”

“I would eat anything at this point.”

“Then let’s head out before you start devouring my couch.”

—

“So,” Roy asked as Ed shoveled down food at a restaurant that would have laughed him out of their doorstep—or their dumpster—two days ago, “any ideas about a major yet?”

“Biochem,” Ed answered immediately around a mouthful of noodles.  “Possibly with bio or chem, too, or physics.  Maybe even biophysics.”

Roy laughed softly, but the tone had more pride than doubt.  “You gonna do all five of them?”

Ed shrugged.  “Depends on how many I can get done in three years.  A couple, at least.”

“Three years?”  Roy sounded surprised, and Ed glanced up a little impatiently.

“Yeah.  Wanna get done as fast as I can so I can get started on my PhD.  I’m _behind_ ,” he insisted, scowling.  He had missed out on two years of possible college doing… what the fuck ever, and he had to catch up!

“You’re going to get your PhD?”  Roy beamed over at him, and Ed had to look away.  He wasn’t smiling; he didn’t have room for anything but determination.

…And maybe a little blushing and head ducking.

“I love you, Ed.  You’re so amazing.”

Ed looked over at Roy again, kind of alarmed, kind of uncertain, then went back to his food.  Roy picked up some bread, nibbling.

“What are you going to do with it?”

Ed glanced up at Roy, then down again, focusing on his food very carefully.  “Gonna cure it.”

The table went silent for a few moments.

“Cure… HIV?”

“Yeah.”

Roy watched Ed for a second, then nodded.  “I believe you.”

“Good.  Because I’m gonna.”  He lifted his chin.  “And then I’m gonna make damn sure that everyone who needs it gets it.  None of this charging fucking tons for medication bullshit.  I don’t give a damn how much money someone has, or where in the world they live, but I’m gonna make damn sure it’s easier to get than—than a fuckin’ bottle of Tylenol.  The vaccine, too.  Which’ll probably come first.”

“You’re going to have to fight the pharmacy companies for that.  You should be prepared.  People will offer you a lot of money for that cure.”

Ed watched Roy carefully for any skepticism, but found none.  After a moment, he finally smirked.

“Yeah, but can you think of anyone better suited to going to battle over that?”

Roy tilted his head, one eyebrow raised.  “No, I suppose I can’t.”

—

Ed squinted at Roy when he made a detour after lunch.  His suspicions were confirmed when he drove by a nice building, brick and professional, with what looked like a hotel in the back.

“There’s Marcoh’s office.”

Ed wrinkled his nose.  “Way too posh for me.”

“Well, regardless, you’ll be staying there for a while.”

Ed’s head snapped towards Roy, eyes wide.  “ _What?_ ”  No way, no way in hell.  Even if Roy offered to pay for it—and he probably would, the generous bastard—to be stuck, alone, overnight, for… for _weeks?_  Months?

“That’s the rehab clinic,” Roy said easily, as if he hadn’t just dropped a motherfucking bomb in the car.  “They have boarding in the back.”

“Then I’ll just stick to the front.  Haven’t had too much luck with back ends lately.”

Roy at least snorted when he drove away.  “Sorry, Ed.  Marcoh says that meth and crack are the hardest to get over, and he can’t let you leave.”

“Fuck if I’m living in a jumped up crack house,” Ed snapped.  “Try again.”

As they reached a stoplight, Roy turned to shoot Ed an exasperated look.  “You’re not going to live in a crack house.  This is the exact _opposite._ ”

“Got enough junkies in there to be,” Ed muttered.

“No more of junkies than you—“

“Yeah, and I am one!”

“—And, like you, they are _all_ trying to get off of it.”

“I can go to rehab without being imprisoned in rehab!”

“Ed, you were sick as a dog and walked six miles to a club to try and blow someone—if we were _lucky_ —for drugs.  I’m sorry, but we can’t have you leave in the middle of the night.”

“Well I’m not sick _anymore!_ ”  And it had totally just been the sickness that had made him that desperate.  Definitely.  “Besides,” he muttered, knowing that he didn’t sound convincing in the slightest.  “I was just looking for you.”

Roy snorted, then shook his head.  “All right.  But listen to me, Ed.  Addictions are hard.”

“Your face is hard,” Ed muttered.

“Thanks.  But I can’t…”  He sighed.  “I trust you, but drugs are really hard to kick.”  Ed turned and glared, and Roy continued.  “Please, Ed.  It’s just that I need you to get better, and I can’t do that on my own.”

Ed flinched at that, just a little, then looked away, shoulders hunching.

“I’m sorry.  It’s just that I’m going to work, and… Marcoh promises that this is the best approach.  You can talk to him on your own, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” Ed said quickly.  He might be able to offer some leverage.  He had it on good authority that his blow jobs were amazing.

Roy turned, squinting at Ed.  “Are you planning something?”

“No.”  Ed kept up as innocent of a demeanor as he could.  Roy sighed, but Ed batted his eyelashes, and Roy rolled his eyes and continued driving home.

Ed hadn’t been awake the first time they had made the journey; as they got steadily further into the nicer parts of town, he scooted back in his seat, as if he could avoid going forward with the car.  Ed had felt weird enough getting into the bright blue Mustang, but this was just going too far.

“We’re going to have to get you more clothes before you go in,” Roy murmured, almost to himself.

“How about a car?” Ed drawled, then winced.  Knowing his luck, Roy would take him seriously and present him with one, leaving Ed even _more_ in his debt.

“Do you have a license?”

“’Course I do!”

“Is it expired?”

“I dunno.  Haven’t looked at it since I turned eighteen.”

Roy sighed.  “Do you still have it?”

“Somewhere.”  Ed dug in his pocket for his wallet—the first time he had used the ratty thing in years; no need to make himself a mugging target—and tossed it over.

“I am driving.”

“You have two hands.”

Muttering about unreasonable children, Roy dug for it one-handed, then glanced down.

“Your birthday _is_ coming up soon.”  He sounded surprised.

“Huh?”

“February third.  It’s your birthday.”

“Yeah, I know that.  What day is it?”

“December fifteenth.”

“Huh.  Fuck.”  Ed leaned back.  “Yeah, I mentioned that, I think.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll get out of rehab before your birthday.”

Ed recoiled, horrified.  “It takes that fucking long?”

“Thirty to ninety days.”

“Fuck!” Ed growled.  “Merry Fucking Christmas.”

“Sorry, Ed.”  Roy handed the wallet back, then reached out to take Ed’s hand.  “I know we’re allowed to visit.”

“I don’t want you to visit!” Ed whined.

Roy was quiet for a moment, withdrawing his hand.  “Oh.”

Ed turned, blinking at the hurt in Roy’s voice—then realized.  “That’s—not like—you know what I meant!”

“Not… really.”

The confusion and hurt edging Roy’s voice nearly stopped Ed’s heart, and he practically stumbled over himself to clarify.  “I don’t want you to _have_ to visit.  I want to be able to just stay.”

Roy sighed, but Ed could see him relax.  “I know.  But these habits are hard to break.”

And here they were again, after coming full circle.  With a huff, he slumped back in his seat, sulking to the point where it was almost audible.

“Ed?”

“Roy.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Do I got a choice?”

“I… yes.”  Roy sighed.  “But it’s between rehab and going back.  And… it’s hard to kick an addiction.  It’s really hard.”

“So you’re gonna kick me out of I don’t,” Ed choked, staring straight ahead, trying to be less… terrified.

“Of course not.  I’m just going to every rehab program in the book until we find one that sticks.”

“Until you get tired of it,” Ed snapped accusingly, mind already putting together a scenario for how this was going to go.

“No.”

“Well, yes.”

“I won’t get tired.”

“Whatever you say, Roy.”

“I haven’t given up on you yet.”

This time, when Roy reached out and took Ed’s hand, Ed made sure it stayed that way.

—

Roy didn’t push in the car.  Ed didn’t offer conversation.  He rested his chin on his hand, elbow on the armrest, as he watched the fancy part of town roll by.  Ed still felt like someone was going to scream at him for daring defile the perfectly manicured lawns with his presence.

When Roy held Ed’s hand on the way inside, Ed knew that things were serious.  When he tugged Ed to the couch and sat him, facing each other, he braced himself.

“I’m not going to drop talking about this rehab thing.”

There it was.  “Fine.  Then talk,” Ed said flatly.

“I think you should go.  Marcoh is a very good doctor; he knows a lot about what he’s doing.  And he has former addicts working for him, so they know what you’re going through.  This is your best chance at getting clean.”

“Yeah, but—can’t I live here with you?” Ed burst out, a little desperate.  Okay, maybe a lot desperate.

“No.  Marcoh’s is faster, if you stay there.”

“Then I’ll let it take a little longer.”  Ed set his jaw stubbornly, glaring.

“You’ll miss your deadlines for school.”  Roy stared back, not glaring, but not budging, either.

“I can still apply!”

“If it takes much longer than a month, you won’t be in any shape to go.  If you miss the first couple of weeks, they could drop you.”

“Then I’ll go to school _and_ do rehab.”

Roy sighed, closing his eyes, and Ed wondered how long it was going to be before Roy got sick of this and threw him out.  “You can’t do that.  The point of rehab is to get you off of the drugs entirely, and teach you to cope with that addiction.  If you’re still craving hits of meth and trying to focus on school, you won’t learn anything.  And you won’t have a way to deal with the cravings.”

“I could if I tried.”  Ed scowled, watching Roy.

“Darling, there’s no point in trying that hard.  You’ll kill yourself.  It’s just logical to do it this way.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to!”

Roy watched Ed carefully.  “You were fine with rehab until I mentioned the boarding.  Why?”

“Well maybe I don’t want to board!”

“You just saw it.”  Roy’s voice was low, pleading.  “It’s not a prison.  It’s a medical facility.  And you might be out in thirty days.”

“That’s a long fucking time,” Ed snapped.   _Without you._

“I know you can do it.  Ed, you need to get over this.”

“I told you, I’ll just do rehab and school!”

“Or you could just get it done with!”  Roy shook his head.  “I can even visit daily.”

“I told you.”  Ed glared, his protest this time more sulk than actual argument.  “I don’t want you to have to.”

“I want to.  I want you to get better, and this is your best chance.”

Still, it fucking _sucked._  Ed had been uprooted _twice_ in the past few days, and now Roy wanted him to _again?_  He could deal with change, but he didn’t fucking like it.  And away from Roy—Roy was safety and trust and security.  Roy was the person who was there when no one else was, and who Ed could always go to, and the thought of being stuck there without him—

It made him forget how to breathe.

“I’m just going to be a phone call away, Ed.  I promise.  You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I’m not worried!”

Roy sighed, a little exasperated.  “I just don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this.  You were all for rehab an hour ago!”

“I don’t wanna _stay_ there,” Ed grumbled, knowing that he was fast losing this argument.

“I’m sorry.  This is the fastest way.”

Ed slumped onto the couch, extending his feet to rest them on the coffee table. Roy reached out to pet his hair, fingers gentle.  Warm.  Calming.

Ed felt his face crumple, and he turned, curling up and burying his face in Roy’s lap.  God, _god_ this was going to suck.  Thirty days.  Thirty days without Roy.  The first time had almost killed him, and he had at least had plenty of meth to keep him addled enough not to care.  How was he going to cope this time?

“Angel,” Roy murmured.  “This won’t be as bad as you expect.”

Ed just inhaled sharply, clutching a fist in Roy’s pants.

“Darling?”

“What.”  Ed’s voice was muffled.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Doubt it.”

Roy sighed softly, rubbing his back.  Ed clutched harder, not knowing what he was going to do when that small amount of physical comfort was taken from him.  “Love, you’re going to be fine.  I know you can do this.”

Ed hesitated, then shook his head.  “You think too much of me.”

“Not at all.”

“Do too,” Ed muttered.

Roy moved his hand to Ed’s hair.  “I think you’re amazing.  And I know you can kick this.  It just takes thirty days.  For someone who can complete undergrad in three years, it’ll be a snap.”

Ed groaned, knowing that the argument was over, but putting up a token resistance.  “I don’t have to fuckin’ like it.”

“But can you do it.”

“I guess,” Ed muttered.

“Thank you,” Roy breathed, and Ed _hated_ himself for how relieved he sounded.

“Only so I get to be with you after.”

“And during.  I’ll be there.”

“But not _there_ there.”  Ed scowled, knowing he was sulking now, but… but this all fucking sucked.

“I’ll be there as often as I can.”

“But not like…”  Ed grimaced.  “Never mind.”

“No, talk to me.”

“I _said_ never mind.”

“Please?”

A sudden surge of _fury_ ripped through Ed, and he wrenched away, face twisted in a snarl.  “I fucking _said—!_ ” he screamed—then froze.

The anger vanished, replaced by horror.  For a moment, he looked at Roy, terrified, stricken, and then just… shut down.  This was it.  He knew that the real him, once he came out, once Roy learned what it would really be like to _deal_ with him, no way would Roy want anything to do with that.

“Ed,” Roy said slowly, cautiously, and Ed flinched, waiting for the strike.  “It’s okay.  We just need to work on this.”

Ed watched him wildly—watched his hands.  Any second he was going to lash back, to hit Ed.  Ed—Ed almost hoped that he would.

“We need to work on communication, love,” was all Roy said, gentle and firm.

“How can you fucking say that,” Ed mumbled, eyes sliding away.

“Say what?”

“Call me that.  After I just…”

“Had an outburst?”  Roy shook his head, eyes kind.  “Because that’s when you need it most.”

“God!” Ed burst out, frustration welling up.  “After—with everything I…”  His shoulder slumped, and suddenly, he felt very, very tired.  “How can you say that.”

“Because I love you.”

The words left him sick.  Ed just shook his head, curling in on himself, but Roy followed to wrap his arms around him.

“Ed, I’m sorry.  I love you.  You’re going to be fine.”

“I fucking hate everything,” Ed muttered, knowing how melodramatic he sounded but he didn’t goddamn _care._

“Yeah?”

“Everything hurts.”  Add pathetic to that, too.

“I’m sorry.  Can I get you an aspirin?”

“Dunno if it’d help.”

“Would anything?”

Ed sighed, closing his eyes.  “A fucking hit,” he said without much hope.

“No.”  He felt Roy shake his head, voice gentle, and his irritation spiked again.

“I fucking know.  And stop acting so nice.”

Roy stilled, then pulled back.  “I’m sorry.”

Ed threw his hands up in the air, exasperated, for a moment, beyond words.  It didn’t take him too long to find them, though.  “It sounds fake as fuck, and—what are you apologizing to me for!”

“I do love you.”  Though Roy’s voice stayed mostly steady, Ed thought he heard a catch.  “I don’t understand why reminding you sounds fake.”

He hated the person who seemed to have taken control of his mouth—not that he could defend himself by saying it _wasn’t_ him, but some part of him stood back and watched, horrified.  “When you say it all the fucking time it does!”

Maybe Roy would hit him now.  Maybe he would kick Ed back onto the streets, or send him back to streetwalking, or toss him down and—

“I’m sorry,” Roy said quietly, looking away.

The words hurt worse than anything else he could have done.

“What—what’s that for?” he choked out, agitated.

“For making you uncomfortable.”

“No, the—the look.”  He took a deep, shaky breath, but it did nothing to quench the sudden panic.

“The look?”  Roy frowned slightly, but tiny as the motion was, it sent a jolt of terror through Ed’s chest.  “I just… felt bad.”

“But you—you’re not fucking…”  God, when had it become so fucking hard to _breathe?_  How could he have done this to _Roy?_  He gasped, burying his face in his hands.  “You should leave,” he choked out miserably.

“You… want me to leave?”

Oh god, the hurt—the _hurt_ in his voice—!  Ed recoiled, looking up wildly.  No, no, no no no—Roy couldn’t think this was his fault, not when he had already taken on so much responsibility for a _fuck-up_ —

“Yes!” he burst out, agitation and panic crawling through his skin.  “Me!  You should leave me!  I’m fucking awful, okay, and I don’t even know why you’ve fucking put up with me for this long!”  He took a deep, ragged breath—when had his hands started shaking?  He stared at them for a moment, horrified, as the words, his words from the past few _days_ , tumbled through his mind’s ears.  In a quieter, more desperate sound, he asked, “Why am I doing this?”

“Ed…”  And fuck, _fuck_ , Roy still sounded so _hurt—_  “I’m sorry.  You’re not awful.”

“Don’t apologize!” Ed pleaded, still desperate, looking up at him.  “I’m—“  God, god, he knew where this had come from.  Why it sounded so familiar.  The realization left him… lost.  “I’m as fucking bad as Kimblee.”

Roy seemed to recoil as quickly as Ed.  “You’re not!  God, no, Ed!  You’re nothing like him!”

“I’m an abusive piece of shit.”  The truth had settled over him now, leaving him numb and horror-stricken.  He looked down at his hands again.

“How are you abusive?  No, Ed, you’re not—“

“Have you fuckin’ _heard_ me these past few days?”  Ed hated the way his voice cracked at the desperate question, but he deserved it, the shame.

“That’s withdrawal, not you.  Ed, please.  I researched it.  These mood swings?  They’re normal.”

Ed laughed, bitterness suddenly flooding through him, taking over everything else.  “It’s the fuckin’ drugs, is what it is.  And the drugs are me.”

“No.  You are _not._  You just used drugs.   _Past_ tense.”

Ed shook his head mutely, still staring at his hands.  Would he try to hit Roy, too?  Would he turn to manipulation?  Demands?  Physical abuse?”

“Ed, please trust me on this, too.  I know I’m asking a lot of you, a lot of trust.  But at least try to listen until we’re through this.  Just… hang on until then, all right?”

“I just wanna be better,” Ed croaked, voice hoarse.

“We’re going to get you better.”

“Without you.”  Ed knew he sounded morose.  He didn’t care.

“I’ll be there.”

He didn’t answer, just curled up in the corner of the couch.

“Ed, it will get better, I promise.  You’re going to kick this, and get better, and get your PhD.”

The words rocked through him unpleasantly, and he thought he might throw up for a moment.  “Shit.”

“Shit?”  Roy’s voice was careful, and Ed hated it, that Ed had pushed him to this.

“I forgot.  For a second.”

“Forgot what?”

The fact that Roy hadn’t realized, it stung a little more.  To Ed, it was obvious.

“That I had it.”

Roy barely paused before his answer, voice utterly confident.  “And when you cure it, you won’t have it anymore.”

Ed glanced over at the unexpected words.  Roy… sounded like he believed it.

“Ed, you will.  I have faith in you.”

Ed let out a slow breath.  “Thanks, Roy.”

Roy smiled crookedly.  “And I do love you.”

Ed winced a little, but Roy didn’t seem to notice.  “So what now?”

“I suppose we get to packing things?”  How the fuck did Roy keep his voice so light and optimistic.

He winced again, not getting up to move.  “Yeah.”  God, this was such— _everything_ was such shit.

“Are you okay, lo—Ed?”

“What if I said I never wanted to have sex again?” he asked, almost defiantly, staring straight ahead at the wall.  There had to be something, something that would show Roy that Ed wasn’t worth his—

“I’d be fine with that.”

Ed let out a disbelieving scoff.  What was _with_ this guy?

“Honestly, I am.”  When Ed turned to look at Roy, there was nothing but sincerity in his face.  “I would not mind.”

“You’d get it somewhere else, then.”

“No.”  Roy leaned back against the couch, completely unruffled by Ed’s accusations.  “I abhor people who cheat.”

“So, what, you’d just never have sex again?”

Roy shrugged.  Like it was _no fucking big deal._  “That’s right.”

Ed shook his head, gaping.  “How would you be happy with that?”

“I don’t need sex to be happy.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”   _Except me._

“I would be just fine.”  Roy scooted closer, and even in his agitated state, when Ed looked at him his heart picked up its pace, he forgot how to breathe, and despite all attempts to feel otherwise, a _euphoria_ rushed through him.  “People who say that are either idiots or manipulative.  Or both,” he added, thoughtful.  “And you are neither.”

Ed snorted.  “Pretty sure you’re the only person who thinks that way.”

Roy only smiled brilliantly.  “Aren’t you glad you’re dating me, then?”

Ed felt a laugh involuntarily burst free of his chest, and—fuck, he was _smiling._  It hadn’t even been that funny—okay, it had been pretty funny, but he ducked his head, looking away from Roy’s knowing, pleased, _unreasonably_ satisfied raised eyebrow.

“Fine, fuckin’ Casanova.  Let’s go pack.”

Roy’s lips pressed against Ed’s temple.  “Of course, Angel.  I’ll help.”


	20. Chapter 20

Sunday morning seemed to be better.

They had packed, last night, and Roy had made Ed a perfect ribeye, beautifully seared with a side of potatoes and asparagus.  Watching Ed inhale it and ask for seconds (and thirds) tugged his heart in two directions.  While Ed’s hunger left him hurting—and _furious_ —seeing him finally being fed the way he needed ignited a fierce pride in his chest, a protectiveness that made him want to wrap him in blankets and pillows with endless plates of food in front of him forever.

Of course, Ed would probably throw one of those plates at Roy’s head if he tried, but still, Roy could at least indulge in the mental image.

Sunday was a huge breakfast to celebrate a return to relative normalcy in Roy’s sleeping schedule (he managed 10 a.m.; he counted it as a success), and when they were finished, Ed at least didn’t look like he was going to cry as he watched the bag he had packed for tomorrow.

But still, Roy couldn’t help but feel like he was abandoning Ed.

“Feeling a little better?” he asked Ed gently, and Ed’s head jerked over, eyes wide with surprise.  He hadn’t had any more outbursts, for which Roy was grateful: though his copious research into methamphetamine withdrawal had confirmed that Ed’s behavior was normal, it still hurt, to hear those things, even when he _knew_ Ed didn’t mean it.  And, he suspected, some of it was also a clumsy, possibly subconscious attempt to push Roy away in a fury of self-flagellation.

Roy wasn’t going to let Ed’s determination to suffer have consequences they would both regret.

“I guess,” Ed mumbled, swallowing.  “Still not down for this.  Just for the record.”  He squinted at Roy.  “Officer.”

Roy wasn’t sure how he managed to snort and wince at the same time, but he did regardless.  “I get it, I get it.  But…”  He sighed, stepping up to stand next to Ed.  “Really, though, Ed.  This is a _good_ thing.  It’ll be a good chance for you to come to terms with…”  He grimaced.  “That.  Me being a detective.  And it’ll just be good for you to be around people who care about your well-being.   _Without_ me.”

Ed inhaled sharply at that, lifting his head and turning to face Roy, eyes wide.

He looked _terrified._  And it finally clicked.

Ed had agreed on rehab—until Roy had mentioned that he would be out of the picture.  It wasn’t rehab that Ed had the issue with: it was what appeared to be separation anxiety, and Roy had inadvertently set himself up as the object of Ed’s need.

In the eloquent words of one Edward Elric, _well, fuck._

“Without me around you all the _time_ ,” he corrected quickly.  “I will absolutely still be there.  Every day.  I can visit, and I will.  And,” he finished, an idea occurring to him.  “I have to go back to work for a little while, so this will give you something to do, so you won’t have to stay home alone.  I’m starting again on Monday, and this way, I can work while you’re in rehab, then take all of my vacation time once you get out, and we can spend it all together.”

Ed straightened at that, and Roy could see a slight amount of relief creeping over the terror.  “You… you really mean that?”

“Of course,” Roy murmured.  “I wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true.”

The tension in Ed’s shoulders seemed to dissipate, and Roy let out a deep breath.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

Roy kissed Ed’s temple.  “I’ll be right back.”

Ed grimaced, glaring in the direction of the door.  “If Maes asks about me, I’m in the shower.”

With a sigh, Roy shook his head, watching as Ed sprinted upstairs before heading to the door.  Another sharp knock, and Roy called out, “I’m coming!”  He rolled his eyes, muttering, “Keep your pants on, Maes.”

When he reached out to open the door, however, two people stood there, and neither of them was Maes.

He first noticed the young woman, with long blonde hair and blue eyes and a cheery face.  She was much taller than her companion, and looked much more alarmed.

No, he corrected himself immediately.  She wasn’t taller, not necessarily.  The young man, expression uncertain but not alarmed, seemed to be sitting.  With a click of realization, his mind supplied the word.  Wheelchair.

He dwelled on it for no more than a moment, however, because other aspects of the young man’s appearance drew his attention.  Short, golden hair, golden eyes…

“Al!” the young woman hissed, eyes wide, elbowing her companion.  “We got the wrong address!”

Roy’s eyes widened in realization.  “Al?  As in Alphonse Elric?”  He tilted his head, lips curving up in a smile.  “I should have guessed.  You have the same eyes.”

The young woman perked up.  “Oh, so he did give us the right address!”  She giggled at Roy—and he smiled indulgently; he might be taken, but no need to be rude—and beamed.  “We didn’t know he was living with someone.”

“Ah, yes.”  Roy nodded graciously.  “He’s just moved in, and he’ll be staying here for a while.”

She stuck out her hand.  “I’m Winry Rockbell.  Nice to meet you!”

He shook it, hope blooming in his chest.  Ed would get to see his _brother._  And a friend, apparently, as well.  This could do him a _lot_ of good.  “Roy Mustang.”  He smiled his best charming smile—and succeeded, given her breathless laugh—in hopes of properly passing the family and friends inspection.  “Would you like to come inside?”

“Can we?  Is Ed here?”

“Yeah.  He’s in the shower right now, but he’ll be out soon, probably.”  Though, who knew how long Ed would try to avoid Maes.  He opened the door wider, glancing at Al, then the step in front of his door.  “Do you need help?”

“We brought a ramp,” he replied cheerfully, as Winry headed back to their car.

“Great.  Can I get you anything to drink, while you wait?”

“I’ll be fine.  You can ask Winry when she gets back.”  Al hesitated, glancing around Roy’s shoulder.  “This is… your house, isn’t it?”

“Of course.”  For a moment, Roy wondered how much of Ed’s activities Al had actually been privy to.

“I hope we’re not intruding, then.  Like she said, Ed didn’t mention that he was staying with someone…”

“Not at all.”  He smiled, and meant it.  “Ed would love seeing you guys.”

Winry finally returned with the ramp, and they all headed inside.

“So, what brings you into town, then?  Just a surprise?” Roy asked politely.

Al nodded.  “We have a few free days between exams that matched up, so we decided, when Ed texted us an address, that we’d drop by and surprise him!  We can’t stay long—but we’ll be getting a hotel, so don’t worry—but…”  Al’s face fell.  “I haven’t seen him for two years.”

Roy’s heart ached at that, at the wistful expression on his face.  It resembled Ed’s far too potently.

“Well,” he said gently.  “I’m very glad he’s going to get to see you again, finally.  He talks about you all the time.”

Al perked up at that, and Roy took the opportunity to segue into Al’s work at school.  Roy knew that he was pre-med, but he _hadn’t_ known that Winry was studying mechanical and bioengineering.  From the glances she and Al exchanged when discussing her work, specializing in paralysis, he could tell that even though Winry wasn’t related to Ed, they had a similar savior complex.  He wished them _both_ the best.

He had opened his mouth to ask about what classes they were both going to take next semester when he heard footsteps on the stairwell.  The three of them turned, eager.

Ed sauntered into the room, in nothing but a towel slung low over his hips.  “Hey, Roy, where’d you put the…”

He trailed off when his eyes landed on Al and Winry, and all three of them looked like they had been punched in the gut.

With dawning horror, Roy realized his—his sheer _idiocy._  He should have thought of the obvious, realized that of _course_ they wouldn’t have known Ed was in this kind of shape!  He should have warned Ed—though he hadn’t had much of an opportunity to do so, and he didn’t exactly think that Ed would wander in naked, his malnourishment and bruises plain for all to see.

Alphonse finally broke the silence.

“Brother!” he exclaimed, and even to Roy’s ears, the excitement sounded a little forced.  “I’d hug you, but come on, you could at least have the decency to put some clothes on…”

Winry dispensed with the awkward jokes.  “What _happened_ to you?” she gasped, clearly shocked.

Ed just stammered for a few moments before choking out, “What are you doing here?”

Roy cringed.  Yes, he definitely should have handled this better.

“We… we came to visit…”

“Y-you didn’t—you didn’t call, you didn’t text, or email, or—“  Roy could tell from Ed’s wide eyes that he was starting to panic.

“No,” Winry said faintly.  “We wanted to surprise you.”

Roy cleared his throat, standing.  “Ed?  Why don’t you go get dressed?  I think that might be the best thing to do, right now?”  He smiled over at him, trying his best to be encouraging.   _I’ll be here_ , he thought at him.   _I’ll help you get through this._

Ed took a deep breath, looking like he had just had the sense shaken back into him, then nodded jerkily.  “I gotta—yeah.”

He ran, and Roy closed his eyes in sympathy.

“So,” he finally said, after several moments of silence.  “Drinks?”

—

Ed finally slunk back into the living room after several minutes of Al and Winry sipping awkwardly on their waters.

“Hey,” Roy murmured encouragingly, lifting his arm, and Ed continued to slink over to the couch, hopping up next to Roy and curling up next to him, under the arm.  Roy wrapped it around his shoulder.  “So, Al, you’re his brother.  What about Winry?”

Ed said nothing, so after a few moments, Winry spoke up hesitantly.  “I’m… a friend.  Childhood friend of Ed’s.  We grew up together.  Practically siblings.”  She watched the two of them, an odd, unreadable expression on her face.

“Well, it’s great that you came to visit.”  He smiled encouragingly over at her.

They sat in silence a little longer before Winry spoke again.

“So… how did you guys meet?”

Roy felt Ed tense underneath his arm, so he answered for him.  “We met through my work.”

“Oh, where do you work?” Al asked, perfectly polite.

Roy shrugged.  “I work for the police.  A detective, actually.”

Al smirked over at Ed.  “What, was he going to arrest you, brother?”

Ed tensed even more, but tried to laugh.  Still, no way was he fooling anyone.  Roy squeezed him gently.  “No, he was a witness.”

Al’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked alarmed.  “Woah, what did you witness?”

“The investigation is ongoing,” Roy said smoothly.  “I’m afraid I can’t say anything.”

“So you guys met… recently, then?”  He watched them exchange a look, try not to look too alarmed, and sighed internally.  The friends and family approval meeting was not going so well, and with his t-shirt, his tattoos were all plainly visible.

“It’s been a few months.”

“Brother,” and this time Al did sound genuinely teasingly chiding.  “There’s a lot you haven’t kept us updated on.”

Ed swallowed, and when Roy glanced over, he was trying to crack a smile.  “Well, didn’t want you guys to freak out or anything, and it’s just been one thing after another.”

“So, um,” Winry interjected quietly.  “Are you okay?  If you witnessed a crime, are you okay?”

Ed blinked.  “What?  Yeah.  I mean, it’s not…  I’m totally fine.”  He grinned at her, but it was an unconvincing look all around.

Winry just squinted at Roy.  “Are you allowed to date witnesses?”

Roy shrugged.  “I’m not the one prosecuting.  I’m also a witness.  Not something we advertise, but not prohibited, either.”

Ed snorted, the first real sign of emotion Roy had heard from him since he had walked into the room.  “He’s too goody-goody to break rules like that.  Not that I’d have had any objections.”  Ed smirked up at Roy, and Roy sighed fondly and tugged him closer.  Ed’s eyes slid away, then, and he frowned.  “What’s the matter, Winry?  You look like I lost a leg or something.”

“No, just… I’m worried.  We didn’t know you were living with someone, and we haven’t heard from you in anything but letters for forever.”

Ed shrugged.  “Well, I’m totally fine.  Though I am sorry I didn’t get in touch.  I’ve been really busy.”

She huffed at him, then stuck her tongue out.  “Well, you should stay in touch better.  We missed you.”

Ed lifted his hands.  “I will, I will!  I was just… busy, okay?  But I’ve… saved enough that it won’t be a problem anymore.  Or shouldn’t be.”

“When did you move in together?”

“Yesterday, actually.”  He glanced up at Roy.  “My lease was up, and I didn’t have too many options, so…”

“That makes me feel great,” Roy replied, voice dry, and Ed smirked, then turned back to Winry.

“Speaking of fucking which, I just texted you the address yesterday!  How the fuck did you find me so fast?”

Al sighed.  “Would it kill you to use your head for once, Brother?  We already had the tickets.  We were going to text you when we got in town, ask where you were, but then you sent us the new address.”

Ed stuck his tongue out and flopped back to sulk, and Al only laughed.  “So, what have you been up to?”

Ed glanced down, fidgeting a little, and Roy turned to the end table, handing Ed the mug of hot chocolate that he had made.  Ed sipped gratefully, then spoke up, voice steadier.  “Like I said, finally saved up enough that I can start goin’ to school again.  Hoping to start this semester and knock out some core requirements.”

When Al grinned, Roy wondered if Ed would ever smile like that.  He suspected that Ed had once; hopefully, he could help him do that again.  “What are you planning on majoring in?  Still physics?”

Ed shrugged.  “Maybe.  Been leaning more towards biochem, biology, chemistry, that kinda thing.  Might do math or physics if I have the time, but I doubt it.”

Al laughed.  “You could do all of it, I’d bet.”

Ed lifted his chin.  “Sure as fuck gonna try.  Right now it’s just community stuff, though.”

“That’s still great!  Where are you planning on going after that?”

Ed cleared his throat.  “I tried for Stanford again, and Harvard this time around.”  He smiled over at Winry.  “MIT, too.  Uhhh, U of Chicago, and a couple other places.  Mostly local.”

Roy nearly whipped his head down to stare at Ed in surprise.  When had he done _that?_  He had only looked for two days—but of course, this was _Ed_ they were talking about.  Ed only stared at his hot chocolate, determinedly not looking at Roy.

With a smile, Roy squeezed Ed’s knee gently as Winry gasped, “We can be schoolmates!”

Ed glanced over at Roy, startled.  Had he thought Roy wouldn’t be happy for him?  “Well, yeah.  It’s a possibility.  If I get in.”

Roy grinned almost as big as Winry.  He had _applied._  “That would be amazing.  You should definitely go, if you want.”

“Oh.”  And there was that faint surprise again.   “Well—yeah, I mean, that’s the plan, if I get in.”

“I’m sure you can.”  He knew that Ed might have called him sickening, for how intently he just _wanted_ Ed to be happy, for how much his happiness mattered, but right now he didn’t care.

Ed took a big gulp of his hot chocolate, wincing at the heat.  “So, uh, why don’t you tell them cool work stories?”

Roy snorted, rolling his eyes, but he _did_ have plenty, and Ed hadn’t heard them either.


	21. Chapter 21

Ed found himself actually relaxing as Roy spun stories, animated and engaging, even managing to spin Maes into a likable character in a particularly hilarious bachelor party story.  He segued into the ongoing saga of Jean Havoc—the cop who had tried to arrest Ed, and who was apparently a pretty nice guy, according to Roy—and some guy from cybercrimes who Ed had met (and didn’t remember) named Kain Fuery.  Their office not-romance apparently had a pool going, when they would start dating, and even some of the long haulers were beginning to sweat.  Ed was the only member of the audience that knew this had to have been going on even before Roy had gone undercover, so shit, it was taking them a long time.  Just stick them in a room and let them fuck it out already.

He curled more tightly into Roy, smiling faintly as Roy’s arm curled tighter in response, and if Ed focused on him, he could forget that Al and Winry were here, had seen him in almost one of the worst states of his life.

Eventually, finishing up a story about his friend Riza’s sharpshooting abilities and how she liked to teach anyone who questioned them due to her gender a very concise lesson, Ed’s stomach growled yet again.  Everyone, Roy included, turned to stare.

“I guess that’s my cue to get takeout,” Roy laughed, amused rather than embarrassed, and stood, leaving Ed… empty.  He scrambled to his feet next to Roy.

“Sure.  That sounds great.”  Without looking at Al or Winry, he made a beeline for the door.

Roy, however, snaked his hand out to grab Ed’s hair by its braid.  He yanked to a stop with an “Rrk!” that didn’t really hurt, but was plenty fucking _obnoxious._

“Ed, sit and talk to your family.  I’ll be right back.”

Ed whirled, scowling.  “But how are you gonna know what to—“

“One of everything, two of sweet and sour pork.  Guests get first pick,” Roy finished warningly.  To mitigate his tone, however, he leaned in, kissing Ed’s forehead.

With a sigh, Ed closed his eyes, nodding and leaning into the kiss.  Roy shot him one last smile before he headed out.

When he turned, Al and Winry were staring.

“What?” Ed snapped, bristling totally not defensively.

After a moment, Winry finally spoke up with, “Wow, Ed, you really like this guy, don’t you?”

Al, helpful little shit that he was, chimed in with, “Yeah, you would have ripped the balls off of any guy who had tried that a couple years ago.”

“He’s all right,” Ed muttered dryly.  “Even if he is a cop.”

Al shook his head, and they both suddenly looked so… confused.  “What… tell us about him?  Brother, this is all so sudden—“

Ed shrugged, going back over to curl up on the couch, grimacing awkwardly.  “I mean, he’s hella smart.  Majored in criminology, and law and society.  Former military, too.”

“Really?”  Winry turned her head to peer out the direction from which Roy had left.  “Wow.  He, uh, doesn’t look like it.”  Glancing around, she raised her eyebrows at Ed a little suggestively.  “He looks more like a model.”

Ed smirked at that.  “Damn straight he does.”  He paused, then laughed, it sounding hollow to his own ears.  “Still having a hard time believing I managed to score him.”

“But he’s nice?”  Al sat forward in his chair, watching Ed intently.  “He’s good to you?”

Ed blinked, wondering where the hell _that_ question came from, and how anyone could assume Roy was anything but.  “Oh, fuck yeah.  Definitely.”

“So tell us more, then.”

“Like what?”

“How you met.  What’s he like, besides his schooling?”  Al’s eyes stared him down, intent, and Ed glanced away.

“He told you how we met.  I can’t really… say anything else right now, because of the investigation.”  Ed shifted, uncomfortable.  “I mean, it was his friend who was investigating, and Roy was helping out, and we got to talking and he asked me to dinner.”  Ed would have laughed at how blatantly false the story was, but—they couldn’t know the truth.

“And… he’s nice?  He doesn’t… want you to do anything, or isn’t keeping you back?  Making you stay local…?”

Ed yanked his eyes back, shaking his head vigorously.  “He wants me to go to school.  I mean, _he_ badgered _me_ until I applied.”

Al squinted, and somehow Ed felt that he had answered incorrectly.  “He made you apply?”

“I mean, sorta.  I was lying around bein’ a miserable piece of shit and he said that I should stop feeling sorry for myself and do what I wanted.  Which was that.”

“So… he’s a good guy?”

“Definitely.”  Ed nodded firmly.

Al nodded, and Ed relaxed slightly.  “If he’s not, call me.  We can find a hole to hide him in.”  Leaning back in his chair again, he beamed.  “So, what have _you_ been up to?”

Ed smiled wanly.  Yeah, like they needed to hear about that.  “I have been up to absolutely fuckin’ nothing interesting lately.  I’d rather hear about your questions.”

Al huffed, pouting a little.  “Well, I don’t even know where you work anymore.”

“I don’t.”  Ed shook his head.  “Told you, saved up enough not to have to.”

“Really?”  Al frowned, and Ed knew that his story about the factory was… probably not going to hold up well.  “What were you even doing?”

“And why are you so skinny?” Winry broke in.

Ed jumped a little at the question, swallowing.  “I—I got sick.”

“So sick you lost, what, fifty pounds?  Ed, I’m pretty sure you can’t afford that weight loss!”

“You think I fucking wanted to lose it?” Ed snapped, feeling his not-defensiveness rising.  “I’m trying to get it back, okay?”

“What was it?” Al asked, and Ed whipped his head back to watch him.

“Flu,” he choked out.  It was half-true—or had been, anyway.  Ed had since looked up “Acute Retroviral Syndrome,” but like hell he was going to tell _them_ that.

“Yeah?  Long enough to lose fifty pounds?”

“I—I kept relapsing, okay?”

“With the flu?”  Al squinted at him.

“It fucked with my immune system!”

“Brother, I’m the one in pre-med.  That’s not something the flu usually does, especially not with someone like you.  You don’t get sick often.”

Ed swallowed again, the panic rising, and scooted back.  “Well then I was due for a fuckin’ hard time one of these days, wasn’t I!” he snarled.

“Brother, you’re being very defensive about this.”

Ed surged to his feet, anger ripping through him, and screamed, “I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it!”

Al and Winry stared at him, shocked, for a few moments, and a chill ran through Ed’s blood at the silence in the room.  Winry looked like she didn’t believe it had just happened, and Al… Al looked like he was about to cry, and unbelievably hurt.

Winry’s expression quickly shifted to one of anger.

“We’re just trying to look out for you!” she yelled right back.  “He knows something is wrong, and he’s trying to help!”

The words punctured him like a flimsy balloon, and he stumbled back, lifting his hands in horror.  “I—I’m sorry—“  His voice, hoarse, cracked on the second word.  “I’m so—fuck, I didn’t mean it, Al—“

“Just tell me what’s been going on, Brother.  I don’t hear from you often, and when I do visit, you’re living with some… some ’cop’ and you look like a famine survivor!”

Ed shook his head, and he realized he had started trembling.  “I—fuck, Al, I can’t—I shouldn’t—I should go—go somewhere else.  Before I…” He glanced around wildly, old habits taking over, and mapped out the nearest exit.  Right now, his brain screamed one word at him: _drugs._  He needed a high, needed a hit of _something_ , whether that was shooting up or snorting or—

And if there had been some here, right now, he would have done it in front of them without hesitation.

“Brother, please.  Don’t run away.  We just want to talk.  We’ve missed you.”

“No—I can’t—“  He gasped, then collapsed to the couch again, head in his hands.  “I didn’t want you guys to see me like this,” he finally whispered, voice utterly broken.

“We’re _here_ for you, Ed.”  Winry stood, taking a tiny step forward.  “Just talk to us.”

Ed just shook his head, unable to look at her for more than a few moments, shaking with the sheer terror coursing through him.

“Please, brother.”  Fuck, Al sounded so pathetic.

“Can’t.”  Ed’s voice cracked again.  “You’ll… you’ll…”   _Walk out that door and never speak to me again.  About me again.  Tell everyone you’re an only child, and you’d be right to do so._

“Nothing you say is going to make us love you any less.”

When Ed looked up at Al, he laughed disbelievingly, almost maniacally.  “You fucking think so?”

“We’re family.”  And the way Al’s eyes met Ed’s… for him, it was a fact of life.

But Ed knew better.

He laughed some more, hysteria bubbling through.  “Yeah, but that doesn’t fucking change the fact that I’m—that I’m a fucking meth addict, and crack and probably a bunch of other shit, too, and the shit I did—that I’m practically a fucking meth whore—“

He cut himself off, eyes wide with horror as he lifted his head.  Had he—he had just said that.  Fucking—fucking Christ.  Drawing back, he wrapped his arms around himself, shrinking back into the couch.

He heard Al’s wheelchair as it came closer and closed his eyes…

Al’s hand slipped into Ed’s, and the couch dipped as Winry sat next to him.

“Brother, are you still doing that?”

“N-not…”  Ed pulled his hand away, cringing away from both of them.

Ed caught a flicker of hurt across Al’s face, but he pulled his own hand back as well.  “You can come home.  We can help you there.”

Ed shook his head.  “And what, live in your fucking dorm room?”

“No, Ed.”  Winry reached out to touch his arm gently.  “You can stay with Granny.  She’s been looking for a bigger place to live.  She misses you too.  You can be _home._ ”

Ed continued shaking his head, dread creeping up through him at the thought of them seeing him like this not just for a few days, but _permanently._  And…  “I can’t… I can’t leave Roy.”

At those words, Al straightened, a determined look on his face.  “Did he make you do it?”

Ed blinked up at him slowly.  “What…?”

“Roy.”  Al frowned.  “He doesn’t seem like a cop.  Is he your pimp or something?  Or a dealer?”

“Wh—“  Ed’s eyes widened frantically.  “No!  He’s a cop!  I told you!”

“And I told you, he doesn’t seem like one.”

“Well he is!”  Ed felt the anger ignite again, and he tried to push it down with only marginal success.

“Did he encourage this?  Why can’t you leave him?”

“Because I fucking love him!” Ed snapped.  “He’s the only reason I’m fucking alive right now!”

“He would understand, if he loves you the same!”

Ed yanked back, glaring at Al.  “But I don’t _want_ to!  That’s the point here!”

Quietly, Winry cut in.  “The only reason you’re alive?”

Ed choked, stricken, then turned his head away, curling up tighter.

“Ed?” she continued, voice still quiet. “What does that mean?”

Ed laughed bitterly, burying his face in his hands.  “It means that I’d have ended up in some dumpster, or just fucking ended it myself, if he hadn’t gotten me out.  God knows I came close enough to it plenty of times.”

Winry inhaled sharply.  “Tell us.  Tell us everything.”

“Wh—no!”  Ed—Ed couldn’t fucking _breathe_ , not with the mortification at the very _thought._

“I have too many questions!” she snapped, indignant.  “And a lot of them could be answered if you just told the story from the beginning.”

“Or you could fucking ask the questions,” Ed muttered, grimacing again, and this time his fear mixed with self-loathing.  He fucking hated when he knew how pathetic he was being and still couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Winry took a deep breath.  “How’d you get into it?  What’s the crime you witnessed?  How long have you been _doing_ this?  Why didn’t you just say something?  Are you healthy?”  Her face wavered, and she looked incredibly upset.  “How badly did they hurt you?”

Ed took a deep breath.  Point made.  “I… his name was Kimblee.  He got me into it.”  He swallowed and looked away; the memory of the man still sent him into fits of momentary anxiety, especially without Roy there.  “I ran out of money.  Lost my job.  He offered me another one.”

Winry put her hand on his knee, and Ed flinched away at the physical contact.  She pulled back, but gave him an encouraging look.

“Well, you can probably guess what it was.”  Ed swallowed, the reality of coming clean, of telling—telling something like _that_ to them leaving him sick to his stomach.  “It wasn’t… well, if course it fucking wasn’t everything it’d cracked up to be.”

“What do you mean?”

Ed shot her a nasty look.  Did he have to fucking _spell it out_ for her?  “You ever had sex for money?  It fucking _sucks_ , when you don’t wanna be doing it _._ ”

“Brother, please.  Just tell us what happened.”  He hesitated.  “Does Roy know?”

Ed huffed.  “’Course.  He was my best fucking customer.”

“What?!” Winry shrieked, and for a moment, Ed was glad Roy wasn’t there; she would have somehow found a way to materialize a wrench and brain Roy with it.  He only glanced over at her.

“Undercover.  Better him than most of my other clients, I gotta tell you.”

“I’m going to kill him,” she spat.  “We’re taking you home.”

“No, you’re not!”  He glared over at her.

“Watch me!”

“I’ll fucking stop you!  How do you even think you’re going to get me there?”

“I’m pretty sure I could take you.   _Al_ could take you, with you like this!”

“Thanks, Winry,” Al muttered, and Ed turned to stare at him, hard.  If anyone would be on his side, it would be Al.

“Yeah, but would you really fuckin’ do that to me after all of this?”

Winry spoke up again.  “But if Roy used to be a customer, it’s not safe for you to be around him!”

“He was a fucking undercover cop!  He hired me to keep the other pieces of shit away from me!”

“Did he have sex with you?” Al asked, quiet amongst all the yelling.

Ed glanced away.  “He’s my boyfriend.  Of course we’ve had sex.”

“Before.  When he hired you.”

“Who fucking cares?” Ed snapped, glaring.

“We do.  If he’s not safe for you to be with, we don’t want him with you!”

“He _is_ safe to be with!”  Fuck, how could they be so fucking obtuse!  If they tried to take him from Roy—  His throat closed up at the thought.

“How sure are you?  He looks like a drug dealer, and he hired prostitutes.  Did he give you drugs or something?”

Ed made a frustrated, screeching noise.  “He had drugs because he was fucking undercover as a drug dealer!  He arrested King fucking Bradley himself!”

“That’s great,” Winry snapped.  “That doesn’t make him a good boyfriend!”

“He had to hire someone to keep his cover!  And I’m glad he hired me!”

“Please, brother.  Just come home.  You can come back here, later, if you really want to, but for now—“

“No!”

“Whatever he’s done, we can help you.  You’ll be back home.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me but saved my fucking life.  He rescued me from Kimblee and he’s the only reason I haven’t offed myself after—“

He broke off, mouth snapping shut.  Fuck.   _Fuck._  He had forgotten.  Again.  They watched him for a moment, as if to see if he’d finished.

“After what?” Al asked quietly.

Ed clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“Brother?”  The concern in Al’s voice broke Ed’s heart.  But it would be even worse if he found out.  Ed opened his mouth, then shut it again, shaking his head.

“It’s just… been really fuckin’ rough.”  But he couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes.

“Brother, please talk to me.”

Ed teetered, hunching his shoulders, but—the words spilled out, albeit quietly.

“I’m HIV positive.”

When he finally looked up after several moments of silence, Winry had tears streaming down her face.  Al looked _distraught._

“Brother…?” he asked, hesitantly, more of an uncertain word than an actual question.

“What.”  Ed replied flatly with an expression to match.

“Does… Roy know?”

“He’s the one who paid for the test.”

“Does he have it?”

“No.”

Al looked at him, wordlessly prodding him to continue.

“Kimblee does.”

“Your pimp?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he give it to you?”

“Fuck if I know.”  He swallowed, the burning desire for revenge never really having gone away.  “I hope I gave it to him.”

“Brother…”

When Ed glanced up, they both stared at him, lost for words.  Ed just… felt tired.  Maybe he hadn’t always been this violent, but who fucking cared now.  Ed just watched them back, almost challenging.

Winry finally broke the silence.  “What are you going to do?”

Ed shrugged.  “Go to rehab.  Kick this shit.  Go to school.  Cure it.  Hopefully not before that son of a bitch wastes away.”

Al leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Ed—and Ed stiffened, panic rising in his throat—

Al quickly pulled back.  “You think Roy will help you with that?”

“He’s paying for it,” Ed choked out, heart slowly settling back to its normal rate.

“Will he keep doing it?”

“Yeah.”  He lifted his head, meeting Al’s eyes.  “He’s paying for your school, too.”

Al hesitated.  “That’s… kind of him.”

“Yeah, it damn well is.”

Al’s expression settled into something hard.  “What’s his angle?”

Ed rolled his eyes.  “That he wants me to go to school.”

“That’s it?  You think he’s _entirely_ altruistic, brother?”

“Look, he’s a great guy, okay?” Ed snapped, feeling himself metaphorically bristle.  “Do you know how much he fucking risked his life to keep me safe?”

“What did he do?”

“Went out of his way to save me from Kimblee.  Had no fucking reason to.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because… I don’t know, you slept with him?”

Ed glared.  “He hasn’t touched me since we left.”

Al just sighed, leaning back.  “I want to talk to him, too.”

The doorknob turned, the hinges creaking, the alarm system beeping.  Ed flopped back too, still glaring.  “Well, now’s your chance.”

Al squared his shoulders, rolling up between Ed and the doorway.  When Roy spotted the two of them, Al looking protective, Ed curled up and anxious, he froze.

“I told them,” Ed said dully.

Roy nodded.  “I assumed you would prefer it if they knew.”

“Not really.”

“I’ve told you before, the more people you have on your side, the easier this will be.”  He smiled fondly over at Ed, then lifted the bags of takeout.  “I’ll put these in the kitchen.  Help yourself.”

Ed stood immediately, making a beeline for the kitchen, only to be intercepted by Roy, who pressed a plate and a fork into his hands.  He scowled.  “Why bother?”

“Manners,” Roy replied simply.  “What if someone else wants the dish you’ve claimed?”

“Then they can deal with it while I eat it all.”

“Or you could get a little bit of everything all at once, then eat the rest when everyone else gets what they want.”  Undeterred by Ed’s glaring, Roy smiled fondly at him.  Ugh.  Gross.

“Fine, fine.”  Ed headed over to scoop out portions of everything, then slunk off to the table to devour it all.

Not before, of course, dancing back over to kiss Roy on the cheek.

The rest followed, until everyone was at the table, eating peacefully.

That was, of course, when Al decided to speak up.

“So, Roy.”

Roy, in the middle of pushing over an extra carton of rice over to Ed, glanced over.  “Yes?”

“How did you meet Ed?”

“I assume he told you I was an undercover cop?”  He glanced over at Ed, who nodded.

“I told them everything.”

Returning the nod, Roy continued.  “The first night we met, he came onto me, and I said no.  I’m generally not… he was high, and it didn’t feel right.  But he left with someone who has… a bit of a reputation for violence.  He came back limping.”  Roy glanced at his food, looking vaguely sick, and Ed couldn’t blame him; he didn’t remember it all very well, but what he did…  “I hired him after that, because I thought I couldn’t do much good until the bust was done, but this I could do.  I could at least keep one person safe for a few hours a week.”

“Did he seem like he was being pressured into it when you met him?” Al asked coolly.  “Coming onto you.  Whoring.”

Ed flinched at the word, but Roy shrugged.  “He was very high.  I didn’t know he had a pimp until a few weeks after that, but I did suspect.”

“High?  So you did sleep with him when he was high.”

“I did.”  Roy gripped his chopsticks, and Ed caught a glimpse of shame on his face.  “I threw up afterwards.  I grew up in a brothel—my foster mother ran one—and the girls made sure I knew how important consent was.  But getting Bradley was important, and…”  He looked down.  “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice to sleep with him.”  Al’s voice sounded flat, almost amused, but in a slightly dangerous way.

“I didn’t know him at the time.  I wasn’t sure that I could trust someone high to lie and say that we slept together.”

“Then you’re saying you didn’t have the choice not to hire him.”

Ed bristled, but Roy answered for him.  “What was I supposed to do?  Let him go off and get beaten up?”

“So what changed?”

“How do you mean?”

“Are you still prostitute and client?”

At that, Ed _did_ interrupt, groaning.  “Al!”

“It’s an important question, Ed.”  Roy reached out to smooth Ed’s hair.  “No, we aren’t.  I don’t know what the tipping point was for him, but I found out that he didn’t want to do the drugs that he was on, and he came to me sober, one night.  I… I assumed it meant something.  And then he stabbed a serial killer for me while I was bleeding out in the parking lot.  I remember thinking that it really wasn’t a fair time to realize that I had feelings for him, because I wasn’t sure that I was going to be able to do anything about it.”

Al and Winry both gaped at Roy.  “ _Serial_ killer?!”

Roy glanced over.  “You should probably tell that story, Ed.  I don’t remember it very well.”

Ed sighed, melodramatically put upon.  “Basically, I decided that I wanted to have sex with Roy when I wasn’t on the drugs.”  Ed shrugged.  “I had this one creepy client who kept saying he wanted to marry me.  He saw me come onto Roy, and Roy not give me any money—I knew he’d pay, by then—so he decided to stab Roy when we were in the parking lot.”

Roy nodded.  “Turned out later that he was responsible for a number of murders around the city.  They wanted to pull me out after that, but I refused.”  He glanced over at Ed, smiling crookedly.  “Luckily, I woke up in the hospital and saw Ed, even though he was completely out.  So he was safe, and Barry got arrested.”

Ed nodded.  “Yeah, we did get to the hospital.  It was… an intense couple of days.”

“I’d say that’s when it changed for me,” Roy continued, and Ed’s heart did a weird backflip kind of thing.  “Knowing that Ed wanted to be with me when he was sober, and realizing that we could have died.”

Ed felt a flush growing on his cheeks, and Roy turned, offering him the barest hint of a smile.

Yeah, the flush wasn’t just growing; it had taken completely over.

“He was a prostitute.  How did you know that changed anything?”

Roy thought for a moment; god, Ed hadn’t expected to get such an in-depth, thoughtful analysis of their relationship, and he wished he could apologize to Roy.  “There had been a couple of times where we fell asleep, and when he woke up, he was sober.  He never interacted with me very much like that, never seemed to want to, so intentionally coming to me while sober impressed me.”

“So you were a drug dealer, then.”

Ed kind of wanted to strangle Al for how upset Roy looked.  “Yeah.  And… this is going to be hard for you to hear, but I gave him drugs.  The stuff that Kimblee was giving him was mixed with god knows what.  They sometimes put rat poison, bleach, anything.  I had purer stuff, which took less to get him high, and it was safer for him in the long run.  I tried to make sure he had that instead of the other stuff.”

“And then what?  Why did he get out?  When did you stop hiring him?”

“Could just ask me that,” Ed muttered, glaring over at them.

“Ed realized that his current situation was one that he didn’t want to be in.  There was an incident, and he called me.  I picked him up and we went back to the apartment that I was in for the duration of the bust.  I started calling around about rehabilitation programs.  The next evening, the bust happened, and then we moved here.  That was… two days ago.”

“An incident?”

“It’s really not my place to discuss.”

They both frowned over at Ed, who turned away, determinedly not looking at either of them.

“And they were fine with you letting him off?  The police.”

Roy shrugged.  “Sort of.  He had hit up a cop for drugs, so they almost got him for solicitation, but I explained that he was in withdrawal and was ill besides.”  He glanced over at Ed.  “And Maes convinced the chief that he was more useful as a witness, and that he shouldn’t have an arrest record when he was trying to get his life back on track.”

Ed’s head snapped up at that.  “Wait, really?”

Roy nodded.  “Maes fought hard for you.”

Ed wavered at that, swallowing.  “I thought he hated me.”

“No.”  Roy sighed.  “He doesn’t really dislike anyone, but he can come on strong, and he is sort of protective of me, considering that he was my handler for all this.”

“You didn’t hear how he talked to me at the hospital,” Ed snapped, scowling defensively.

Roy grimaced.  “I can imagine that he wasn’t pleasant.  When he gets really nervous, he can be pushy.  Especially if he thinks he’ll get his way.”  He shot Ed a helpless look.  “And he’s good at reading people.”

“Fuckin’ manipulative,” Ed muttered, flopping back and sulking at the realization that he had been totally and utterly played.

“He can be.  He usually isn’t, though.”

“Maes?” Al piped up.  Shit; for a second, Ed had forgotten that he was there.

“Maes Hughes is a fellow cop.  My best friend, and the one in charge of overseeing my progress on the bust.  We were in Afghanistan together, and we joined the police at the same time, too.”

“And your ex, you mention that?” Ed muttered—loudly.  A little.

Roy took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose.  “Yes, we did have a relationship at one point.  Many, _many_ years ago.”

At that, Al rolled his eyes at Ed, and Ed stuck out his tongue.

“And after the bust, what, you just took him here?” Winry demanding, clearly wanting to get this conversation back on track.

Roy nodded.  “The shitty apartment I was staying at was going to be returned to the city, and I had to leave.”

“And that’s the end of it?”

“So far, yes.  He’s starting rehab tomorrow, and he’ll start school in January.”  Roy looked over towards Ed, beaming with pride.  Ed inhaled sharply, the odd giddiness leaving him dizzy.

“And what’s your end goal here?”

Roy tilted his head, still watching Ed, looking as if he were just now considering it.  “Mostly, I’d like him to be happy and comfortable again.”

“And what if he decides to leave you?”

“Then that’s his choice.”

“But you’re effectively paying him to date you, and then there’s the threat of losing that money if he stops.”

Ed straightened, jaw dropping open.  “The fuck, Al!”

Roy, however, didn’t seem even remotely perturbed.  “I wouldn’t say that.  I’m trying to help him, but if he found a job and wanted to move out, I wouldn’t hold him back.”  He looked down.  “I just think that he deserves a little bit of a break, before all of that.  It’s not so different than Jean sleeping on my couch for a few weeks.”

“But you’ve told him you’d pay for my school.”

“Yes.  And I’ll pay for his, too, if he needs it.”  Roy sighed.  “I grew up rather poor, and now that I have the means to help, I want to.  I got attached, and that’s my fault, but rest assured, I expect nothing else.  I just want to help.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Winry mumbled, and Ed glared.

“So,” Al continued, and Ed made a frustrated noise.  “You’d even keep paying if he broke up with you and moved away.”

“Yes.”  Roy lifted his chin.  “I had to get shot at to afford to go to school, and I don’t believe that should be your only option.  I respect the right to a good education.”

“And what are your intentions towards Ed?”

Ed groaned, slumping forward to rest his head on the table.

“My intention is that he get better.”

Ed glanced over towards Roy, a little offended.  Rude?  Couldn’t he at least have mentioned that his intentions were to keep being his sappy romantic shit self and annoy Ed with it until the day he died?  At least _something_ romantic and impractical.

Roy turned back to Ed, smiling in that fond way that left Ed’s heart speeding up.  “In terms of health.  You know that you’re dangerously underweight and fighting an addiction.”

“Yeah,” Ed scoffed.  “But what about our relationship?  That’s what he was asking.”

Roy looked back over at Al.  “I can’t make decisions for your brother.  In a month or so, we’ll see where we are and go from there, but I can’t promise anything right now, except that I will abide by whatever rules he puts down.”  He turned to Ed.  “Happy?”

Ed sighed.  Unromantic _and_ practical.  “It’ll do.”

Al finally, _finally_ nodded slowly, glancing over at Winry, who did the same.  “I guess we’re okay enough not to kill you in your sleep.”

“I would appreciate that.”  Roy stood then, heading over to begin making Ed hot chocolate again, wrapping it in a paper towel to keep the mug from burning Ed’s hands.  As Ed watched, he could see that Roy looked tired, and he winced, knowing how done he must be with this interrogation.  He offered him an attempt at an encouraging smile, and Roy returned it.

“Have you considered medical bills?”

Both of them turned to glance at Al, startled.

“I’m sorry?”

“For Ed.”  Ed could feel the blood draining out of his face as Al spoke.  “HIV is expensive to treat.”

“I’m well aware.  I know the doctor who runs the rehab clinic personally, and a good friend of mine’s wife is also a doctor.  We have good treatment options.  I’m going to talk with HR on Monday to get information on claiming dependents on my insurance plan, or perhaps using my army pension.”

“Do you know his viral load?  T-cell count?  I hope you’ve been on top of tests and treatment,” Al cut in sharply.

“Al, come the fuck on—!”

But Roy lifted a hand, stopping him.  “We only just found out yesterday.  I did buy disinfectant wipes in bulk, but we haven’t had much time to do anything else.”  Ed snorted, but Al narrowed his eyes, and Roy raised his eyebrows back at him.  “It was a joke.”

“You think this is funny?”

“Fucking Christ, Al, give it a break!”

Roy shook his head.  “He’s just trying to look out for you, Ed.  And he’s right.  We do need to get you in and get that information.”  He lifted his chin, returning his attention to Al.  “The only thing I’ve been able to do is inform Maes that when I’m sick, I’ll be on his couch instead of here.  Applying for schools and getting this place livable again is all I’ve been able to do in the past day and a half.”

Ed flinched at that.  “You… you told Maes?”

“He needed to know,” Roy said quietly.

The room went quiet at that, despite Ed’s glare in Roy’s direction, and awkwardness at the silence seeped in.

“So,” Ed finally said.  “You guys want dessert?”

“I’m very good at baking,” Roy chimed in.

“We’ve got a fucking ton of cookies.”

And if those couldn’t win them over, nothing could.


	22. Chapter 22

That talk with Maes had been a bit more than that, all things considered, but Ed didn’t need to know that.

That’s what it had started at, though; just a warning in the midst of catching up, the updates on booking, and trials.

“I’m going to be at your house some nights.  Hopefully not too often, but just so you know.”

Roy could hear the frown in Maes’s voice when he answered.  “Everything okay with you guys?”

“Great,” Roy sighed, knowing that he didn’t sound great in the slightest.  “But—we got the HIV tests back.  He’s positive.  So I don’t want to risk being sick at home.”

Maes was quiet on the other end of the phone for a moment.  “I’m sorry, Roy.”

“It’s okay.”  Roy swallowed, straightening, trying to make himself believe it.  “He’s going to be okay.”

“How’s he taking it?”

What a damn loaded question.  Roy glanced back over his shoulder at the kitchen, where Ed was putting a dent in the egg population of the city.  “I’m not sure.  He’s been withdrawn.  And withdrawal’s started to set in.  Hasn’t helped.”

“I can understand why.”  Maes sighed.  “I really am sorry.”

“I just… I wish he’d talk to me.  That’s why I’m here.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want you to see how much it’s bothering him.”

Roy sighed heavily.  “That’s the point of being in a relationship, though.”

Maes snorted.  “You think he’s got a lot of experience with those?” he asked dryly.

“No, I suppose not.”  Roy rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.  “This entire thing is fucked up, Maes.”

“Just a little.”  Maes hesitated, then, “Are you the first person he’s ever dated?”

“Yeah.  He was even a virgin before he got into the business.”

Maes sucked in a breath.  “Seriously?   _Shit._ ”

“Yeah.  I don’t… I don’t know how much of this is him actually liking me, and how much of it is him not knowing better.”

Maes sighed.  “I dunno.  All I can say is to talk to him.  Sorry.”

Not everyone could have the perfection of Gracia and Maes, Roy supposed.  “He’s just… I guess he’s a little upset right now.  I don’t want to pressure him more, or give him something to mull over that will distract him during rehab.”

“Whatever you want, Roy.  Seriously, I’m the worst at advice for these things.”

Roy let out a bark of laughter, pessimism that he had been trying to keep at bay for days beginning to wear down his defenses.  “Everything I did is pointless.  I can’t even save him.”

“ _Pointless?_  Roy, you saved his life.”

“I haven’t, though!  He has a disease that’s going to kill him.”  He sat on the couch, putting his head in his hands.  “I should have gotten him checked sooner or out of there sooner or… something.  I could have done something else.”

“Roy, if it’s showing up in tests, there’s a good chance he had it before he even met you.  You’ve ensured that the diagnosis isn’t going to be a death sentence.”

But Roy knew better, had put together the pieces of Ed’s “flu.”  “We thought the syphilis was going to be it.  He was excited, even.  Ready to move on.  And now, he’s stuck with a reminder for the rest of his _life._ ”

“I know, Roy.  But if anyone is resilient enough to come through this on the other side, it’s him.  Kid’s got guts.”

“Thanks, Maes.  I guess he does.”

But Roy already knew that much.  It was the fact that Maes seemed to take it as fact so easily, that Roy had considered taking it so easily, that worried him.  Yes, Ed could take a lot, but how much could they shove at him before he finally broke?

—

Roy knew what he had to do.  He was a little worried that he might wake up to find that he had been run over by Al’s wheelchair, but not doing it would put him even _worse_ in the shitter.

“You two are more than welcome to stay.  Nearby hotels are likely to be exorbitant.  I have a daybed in my office upstairs and a guest room down here.”

Al and Winry exchanged glances, and Winry finally said, “We’ll take the guest room.”

We.  Well, Roy hadn’t expected that.  Still, no need to make a big deal out of it.  He didn’t want to be even _less_ of their least favorite person.  But he was tired of this interrogation, and right now, he just wanted to curl up with Ed, enjoy their last night together.

When he turned, he realized that Ed was nowhere to be seen.  Probably upstairs.  Roy helped them offload their things in silence, then wished them a good evening.  “You’re welcome to anything; you can ask me, or just help yourself.  The liquor is all in a locked cabinet, though, and I’m not comfortable opening it.”

They nodded, and he thought he _might_ have caught a slight bit of respect in Al’s eye.  But then again, it also might have been wishful thinking.

When he stepped into his room, a small, golden bullet hurtled into him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, wrapping around Ed, stomach twisting at how tightly Ed clung.  “Are you doing all right?”

Ed didn’t answer, just squeezed, then wrapped his arms around Roy’s neck and pulled him down for a deep, intense kiss.

Roy inhaled slightly at that, more than a little surprised, but kissed back, keeping it gentle.  Ed, having none of that, kissed him even more desperately, then dragged him over to the bed.  Roy dug in his heels, making small noises of warning, but did keep kissing him.  Ed, however, eventually pulled back.

“What?”

“What what?”  Roy leaned in to kiss Ed again, gently.  When he got close enough, Ed bit his lip.

“You’re holding back.”  With that, he yanked Roy down onto the bed, and Roy had to reach out to steady himself.

“Yes, I am.”  He did kiss Ed again, but still kept it gentle.  “Your brother and best friend are downstairs, and I’m rather sure they hate my guts.”

“Shhhh,” Ed murmured against his mouth, then slid a hand up Roy’s chest, underneath his t-shirt.  “They don’t totally hate you.”

Roy pulled back a little, no longer kissing, though he kept close enough that their lips almost touched.  “Do you… Ed, what are you trying?”

Without answering, Ed fisted his hands in Roy’s shirt, then lifted, trying to tug it off.

Roy reached up to take Ed’s wrists.  “Ed, stop.  Please.  What are you doing?”

Ed hesitated, then pulled back even more, looking at Roy with a question in his eyes.

“Are you…” Roy choked out, trying to ignore the growing demands in the lower half of his body to just forget about it, let Ed keep going.  Enjoy it.  “Are you ready for this?  It hasn’t been that long since…”

Ed leaned in, burying his face In Roy’s neck, and shivered.  “I know,” he mumbled.  “I just wanna…”

Roy reached out to wrap his arms around Ed.  “Wanna…?”

“Be… close to you.”

Ed seemed to keep finding ways to break Roy’s heart, and his tendency, when asking for something romantic, to sound like he knew how stupid his request was had only joined the long, long list.  “It’s okay,” Roy murmured.  “Do you want to just lay here, love?”

Ed paused, then shook his head.  “No.”  He tugged his own shirt off, then went for Roy’s.

“Ed!”

“Yeah?”  When Roy looked down, Ed had a stubborn set to his jaw.

“What are you doing?”

“I—I just wanted—“  Ed pulled back, wrapping his arms around himself and looking uncertain and defensive.  “Never mind.”

Roy sighed, then leaned in to wrap his arms around Ed.  “What did you want, Ed?”

“I told you.”

“No, you didn’t.”  Roy watched him steadily.  “Do you want to have sex?”

“I don’t—I’m not—can’t I just… see?”  Ed had started to fidget.

“See what?  All you have to do is ask, darling.”

Ed reached out to run a hand up Roy’s chest again, gently.  “I figured  I’d tell you to stop when I wanted.”  At that, he looked up at Roy.

The sulky, almost pouty expression from underneath golden eyelashes, the hesitancy that spoke wonders of his expectations of Roy, possibly even though he might _laugh_ at him, melted whatever Barry had left of Roy’s insides.

“Of course,” he breathed, leaning in to brush his lips against Ed’s.  “Tell me what the safeword is.”  At that, he leaned back, tugging his shirt off

“How about stop,” Ed muttered, going immediately for Roy’s pants.

“Fair.”  For a moment, he considered hunting for some condoms, but—he doubted it would get that far.  He didn’t even _want_ it to get that far.

Ed crawled up into Roy’s lap to kiss him after he got Roy’s pants undone, and Roy—well, he was getting hard, couldn’t help it, but he made no effort to push Ed into it, or draw his attention to it.  Ed pressed against Roy, settling into a spot where it didn’t bother either of them, and leaned in to start kissing down his jaw, into his neck and shoulder, finally burying his face there when he reached it.

Roy smiled faintly, reaching up to undo Ed’s braid.  As he did, Ed nipped gently, grinding his hips forward, just a little, and hummed against the crook of Roy’s neck.

Roy slowly trailed his fingers down Ed’s back, stopping before they got too low, not going any further.  He had come to the realization that Ed _didn’t_ know what to ask for, even when prompted, so he would try his best to puzzle it out and encourage Ed to speak up when he wanted.

Ed continued to kiss for a few moments before returning to Roy’s lips, moaning against his mouth and sliding his tongue inside.  He lifted his hand to the back of Roy’s head, putting a little of pressure on it… was he coaxing Roy?  With alacrity, Roy kissed back, savoring the soft sweetness of Ed’s lips, kissing him a little deeper, little rougher, keeping one hand on the small of Ed’s back.

He earned a pleased noise from Ed at that, and Ed seemed to get a little more into the kissing the rougher Roy got.  He shifted forward onto Roy, pressing Roy’s head a little harder, and—fuck, Ed was hard, too.

Roy gasped at that, at the knowledge that everything Ed had been through, everything that had been forced on him, Ed could still _know_ that kind of pleasure, want it, and that Roy had the honor of being the one to offer it to him.  He eventually bit Ed’s lip—gently; he couldn’t have it bleed—and turned his kisses a little rougher.

Ed pushed Roy’s head to the side, pressing their jaws together, sliding his other hand up Roy’s side.  Nuzzling at the soft, golden expanse of Ed’s neck before him, he licked his way down, making sure not to leave marks or bite too hard.  Reaching down, he ran his hand down Ed’s ribs, eventually rubbing his thumb over his hipbone.

Ed huffed and pressed at the back of Roy’s head harder, and Roy moved his mouth to Ed’s shoulder, again nipping slightly, but—

“You can mark me up now, y’know,” Ed muttered.

Roy huffed a laugh against Ed’s perfect shoulder.  “Love, I don’t want to get murdered by your family.”

Ed growled impatiently, flopping back and glaring up at Roy.

“Perhaps when they leave,” Roy murmured thoughtfully, following, returning to his task until he reached Ed’s chest.

When he got a little closer, _then_ he nipped and started leaving love bites.

Ed _moaned_ , a gorgeous, entrancing sound, then gasped, reaching out with his other hand to wrap it around Roy’s neck.  He arched his back, pressing into Roy’s mouth, and closed his eyes.

Roy reached up to play with a nipple—if his memory served, those were quite sensitive—and was proven right when Ed gasped, jerking against Roy again.  He hooked a leg around Roy’s waist and tugged him in, squeezing him close.

Roy continued to move his hand up and down Ed’s chest, and Ed returned the favor, sliding his hand up Roy’s back until they reached right below his shoulderblade—and dug his nails in, arching his hips up against Roy’s chest.

Now it was Roy’s turn to groan, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against Ed’s stomach, panting as the small jolts of pain dragging up his back _burned_ , as his cock pressed against the mattress, demanding immediate attention.  But this was about Ed.  He—he needed to make him feel safe.

So after the pause, he kept going, nipping slowly at Ed’s ribs.

Ed grunted, reaching down to fumble at his own pants, and Roy froze, watching him carefully.  He caught the undeniable shake in Ed’s hands as he did it, but when he looked back up at Ed, Ed was watching him, hopeful, with an unbelievable amount of trust in his eyes.

With a fierce surge of want, of need, of protection and concern and _love_ , he leaned forward and kissed Ed, desperately trying to show how much he cared about him.

He helped Ed slide the pants down, not doing much but compensate for how much Ed’s hands were shaking.  When Ed’s hands tentatively reached for Roy’s, Roy helped him tug them down, too, letting Ed decide how and when to pull them off.  Which was, apparently, quickly and right now, and included Roy’s boxers.

Roy shivered as Ed pulled back to take him in, eyes gleaming, a hungry expression on his face that Roy had learned to treasure.  He kicked his pants off, naked now, and stayed for a moment, letting Ed’s eyes take him in.  His tattooed bicep and chest, ribs, and hip; the scar, which Roy still hadn’t gotten touched up, leaving gaps of pink flesh in the midst of the artistry of the phoenix.

Ed finally reached out, and Roy went obediently and immediately, kissing him before lowering himself, though keeping his hips up to make sure that his lower body wasn’t pressing into Ed’s.

Ed promptly, of course, wrapped his legs around Roy’s waist, tugging him down to grind their cocks together, nothing more than the cloth of Ed’s boxers between them.

Roy gasped against Ed’s mouth, freezing, but god, _god_ it was hard not to grab Ed and yank him against him, grasp every inch of flesh he could, rut up against him desperately.  Ed gasped as well, grinding against him again, closing his eyes and tilting his head back—

Roy kissed him desperately, hips jerking forward involuntarily, and Ed moaned, rutting himself.  Roy let himself go, just a bit, succumbed to the lure of Ed’s intoxicating warmth as they thrust against each other frantically.

But then Ed pressed a hand against Roy’s chest, and Roy froze immediately.

As he waited, watching Ed carefully, Ed reached down to fumble at the waistband of his own boxers.  Roy paused, not sure if he should stop Ed, but then Ed looked up.

Ed’s eyes, wide and golden and beautiful, had more hesitation, more uncertainty in them than Roy had ever seen.   _He doesn’t think I’ll want him_ , Roy realized, the revelation hitting him like a bullet to the chest.

Taking a deep breath, Roy leaned in, kissing at Ed’s jaw.  “You just have to tell me to stop if you want me to stop, no matter what, all right, love?” he whispered, voice low and husky.

Ed shuddered, nodding, then pulled him in for another kiss, pressing up against him as Roy did the same, Roy wrapping his arms around Ed’s back, pulling in, keeping him safe.  Ed rolled his hips, and Roy’s breath caught as their cocks ground together.

He hated himself for the quick moment of hesitation, of making sure, _is this safe?_  But yes; he had done his research; as far as types of sex went, this one was safe.

Still, he groaned as Ed ground against him again, long and low, and Ed jerked his head up, eyes wide.  Disbelieving.   _Yes_ , Roy thought frantically.   _I want you._ Ed reached around again, digging his nails into Roy’s back, _hard_ , and dragged them up.

Roy’s brain short circuited.

He gasped and pushed Ed down (though still, there was something inside him that reminded him to be careful of Ed’s shoulder), panting with want, with _need_ , and he groaned again, snapping his hips into Ed’s even harder than he had been.  Though Ed made a surprised noise, he gripped harder with his nails, lifting his hips in return, coaxing Roy into circling them.

Ed let go with one hand, fumbling between the two of them, and when Ed’s rough fingers gripped Roy’s cock, pressing it against Ed’s—

“God, Ed,” Roy groaned, closing his eyes, arching his back, and shivering a little.  They had done more than this, so much more, but right now, this small moment of contact, of intimacy—Roy felt as if he had been touched by something heavenly.

“R-Roy,” Ed gasped, voice cracking, lifting his hips again, keeping their cocks together, _rubbing_ —

At Ed’s coaxing, Roy ground harder, reveling in the gasping and startled noises from below him as Ed kissed him frantically.

“God, I love you,” Roy gasped.

“Roy—“  Ed’s eyes, wide with wonder, burned into Roy’s as he arched his back.  Roy reached down between them as well, hand wrapping around Ed’s, helping him stroke their cocks.

He gripped harder when Ed’s hand fell away, Ed letting out a strangled yell, wrapping his arms around Roy—

Roy felt the warmth of Ed’s semen splash against his stomach, and came right after, mouth pressed against Ed’s, groaning.

They stayed that way for a few moments, Roy gasping, Ed panting, before Roy collapsed, rolling to Ed’s side and holding him tightly.  “God, I love you,” he groaned quietly, cuddling him close.

Ed just lay there, still panting, finally managing to breathe out, “Wow.”

Roy chuckled softly, then leaned in to kiss Ed’s temple.  He stood, wetting a washcloth from the bathroom to wipe them both down, then climbed back into the bed, curling around Ed.

Ed promptly burrowed back into him.

“What was that for?” Roy murmured, running his fingers through Ed’s bangs.

“What was what for?”

“The sex.”  But he kissed Ed gently, making it clear that he enjoyed it.

Ed shrugged, closing his eyes and turning his head into the contact.  “I wanted to.”

Roy hummed, beyond pleased at the words—and that Ed seemed to be content with his choice.  And it _had_ been a choice, most importantly: of Ed’s volition, his initiation, his rules.  It seemed to have done him well.  He pulled him in, cuddling him even more tightly.

Ed huffed softly, as if putting up with the basest of indignities, but allowed Roy his follies.

“I love you, Ed.”

Ed chuckled softly, finally turning into Roy.

“Yeah, you too.”


	23. Chapter 23

When Ed sleepily watched Roy stand and slowly dress the next morning, he didn’t miss the winces as his shirt settled over the scratches on his back.

He smirked, resembling for all the world a satisfied cat.

Though Roy brought him coffee, Ed grimaced, grumbly and complaining that he didn’t _want_ to get up.  He had lived on a mostly nocturnal schedule for years; why change it now?

Roy didn’t make him, but he did kiss Ed on the cheek.  “I’ll be making pancakes.  Your brother will be up soon.”

At _that_ , Ed sat bolt upright, nearly clocking Roy in the head with his own.  “Fuck.”

“Hmmm?”

“He’s here,” Ed groaned, grabbing Roy’s pillow and covering his face with it.

“Yes, he is.  Well, I’m going to be making those pancakes, and there’s more coffee downstairs.  Come down when you’re ready.”

With a sigh, Ed listened to him go, then sat back up, stumbled out of bed, and started looking for clothes.

Not caring that his braid was ratty as all hell, he staggered sleepily into the kitchen.  Winry was pouring coffee, and Al was staring out the window.

Well shit.  He was angry.

But what the fuck ever.  “Hey Al.  Hey Winry,” he mumbled, grabbing coffee and flopping over to the table.

No response from either.  Roy flipped pancakes unassumingly.  When Ed glanced over at Al, Al ignored him.  When he glanced over at Winry, she made a face, then glanced over at Al.  Ed could hear the unspoken words: _talk to your brother!_

“Allllll.”

Al continued to stare out the window.

Well, fine.  Ed rolled his eyes, sipping at his coffee.  “Good fuckin’ morning to you too, sunshine.”

Al spun his chair, glaring, then leaned in to whisper, “I heard you two last night.”

Ed sputtered, choking on his coffee and sending droplets flying all over the table.  “What?   _When?_ ”  He didn’t even have the wherewithal to keep his voice down.

“When you screamed.”  Al shot a nasty glare at Roy’s back; Ed would have bet Roy’s comfortable bed that he could hear.  “Did he hurt you?”

“What—fuck, Al, no!” Ed hissed.  “Jesus!  I yelled when I came!  Holy shit!”

“Did he force you?”  Al stared Ed down, and Ed wondered if Roy felt like this sometimes, facing down gold eyes blazing with will and determination.

“To come?  We both had a hand in it,” Ed snapped.  “Literally.”

“No, to have sex!”  Al’s voice rose a little, and Ed glance back over towards Roy, who hadn’t moved.

“Of course not!  Like I’d fucking be here if he tried!”

Winry sighed, stepping over.  “We’re just making sure you’re okay, Ed.  Don’t jump down his throat!”

“He jumped down mine!”

She glared at him.  “Hush.”

Ed yanked back, not even trying to be quiet anymore.  “Fuck you!  I can have sex with whoever I want, and _you_ might not fucking get this, but actually being able to choose who I fuck for once is a luxury I goddamn finally deserve!”

Al winced, anger fading, and Winry looked stricken.  Roy, savior that he was, walked over, setting the pancakes on the table and his hand on Ed’s shoulder.

“Al, Winry, I would never force Ed into something he didn’t want.  We have a safeword and I trust Ed to use it when he needs, and he trusts me to stop.”

Ed glared up at Roy.  “I just don’t want to fucking hear the insinuation that you _raped_ me when you saved my life.”

“They’re perfectly within reason to be suspicious.”

Ed scowled and crossed his arms, looking away.

“It’s true.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, storming over to get a plate for his pancakes.

Fuck.  Fuck all of this bullshit— _fuck._  Last night—last night had been a miracle, a startling display of intimacy for the two of them.  Ed had _needed_ it, that intimacy, the contact and the sensuality without penetration, and Roy had not only agreed, but presented it to him on a silver platter, treating him as someone irrevocably worthy of such a gift.  And it had been Ed’s, Ed’s sexuality to claim for the first time in his _life_ , something he had chosen and taken and enjoyed.

And now he felt like a fucking tramp again.

When he stalked over and sat, still glowering like a thundercloud, Al cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, brother,” he said, voice quiet.  “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Ed just shrugged, not really in the mood to fucking hear it.  If he was miserable, Al could be, too, for intentionally making him that way.

Still, Roy reached out to take Ed’s hand, kissing the back of it before passing over the platter of bacon.

The tension did finally unknot, after a bit.  The awkwardness dissipated around conversation of Al and Winry’s classes, their mutual moaning about exams.  Ed quietly envied them: with luck, this time next year he would be doing the exact same bitching.

They eventually retired to the living room, Ed curled up with his head on Roy’s lap, Winry in the cushy armchair, and Al next to her.

“So,” Ed spoke up before any further fights could be instigated.  “Tell me how you two started dating.  I mean, I heard you were, in the letter, and lemme say it’s about _goddamn time_ , but gimme the whole story!”

The two of them exchanged a startled glance, then Winry smiled shyly, beginning to speak.

—

Ed understood why they had to leave.

They had wanted to take him to lunch and a movie, but were (surprisingly, given their previous behavior) understanding when Roy mentioned that Ed needed to check into the rehab facility that afternoon.  Both of them did offer, multiple times, to stay and help look after him, but Ed wouldn’t begin to hear about them fucking up their grades for this, not after it had been such an uphill battle.  And they weren’t able to stay past that evening, either, not with their exam schedule.  So after teary goodbyes—the tears mostly from Winry—Ed helped them load up into the car, mutual promises exchanged all around to visit for more than two days next time, and Ed secretly swore to be out of rehab as soon as goddamn possible, so they could _properly_ catch up.

And so that he could get to work proving them wrong about Roy.  Always a plus.

That still left Ed feeling as if he were headed to the executioner’s block.

The interior wasn’t _awful_ , he guessed.  It had a clinical feel that reminded him of a dentist’s reception, including a check in desk and a waiting room.  As Ed took it all in, an older white man, maybe in his late forties or early fifties, short and stocky, gray beginning to take over the brown at his temples, stepped in to greet them, smiling gently.

“Edward, yes?  And Roy.  We spoke on the phone.”  The man reached out to shake Roy’s hand, and Ed watched him suspiciously, ready to glare if he tried to shake Ed’s—but instead of trying, he simply turned to Ed and nodded.  “Can I show you around?”

Ed turned to give Roy a pleading look, and Roy leaned down, giving him a giant hug.  “Ed.”  He tilted Ed’s chin up, looking him in the eye.  “I will be visiting as often as you’ll have me.  I love you, and you can call me, okay?  I’m just going to be on desk work until trial.  Remember, saving up vacation days to spend them with you.”

“Yeah,” Ed mumbled, but still slumped dully.

“Love, I don’t want you to leave any more than you want to leave, but we need to do this.”

“I’m Doctor Marcoh,” the man said.  “But you can call me Marcoh, if you’d rather.”

Had Roy told him that Ed had authority issues?  Ed squinted over at him, but Roy didn’t even seem to notice.

He continued to show them around; the rec area didn’t look too bad, and Ed could even see a pool outside, though covered for the winter.  The indoor gym had a few people playing basketball.  In all, it reminded him a bit of what a dorm room might be like, maybe with a bit of hotel mixed in.  Most importantly, Ed got to hold Roy’s hand for a little bit longer.

“Do I really gotta stay here?” Ed asked quietly, looking at the plush couch.  Luxurious, maybe, but a trap nonetheless.

“I’m afraid it’s the most effective way to kick the habit, especially during detoxing.  There isn’t a very high success rate with those who leave.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be successful.”

“That isn’t in the rules.  I’m sorry, Mr. Elric.”

“Well I don’t fuckin’ see—“

Ed broke off when Roy tugged on his hand.  “If you stick to the program, Ed, you can come home in thirty days.  Just try, and we can get through this, all right?”

“Can I speed that up at all?” Ed grumbled, and Marcoh smiled a little regretfully.

“We’ll check your progress in a few weeks, but certain drugs do take a certain amount of time to get out of the system.  The timeline for methamphetamines is at least a month.”

Ed frowned in concentration, trying not to panic.   _Again._  And damn, knowing that this place was completely drug free didn’t help much either.  He could _really_ use a hit right about now.

“We’ll discuss all this later.”

“Fine,” Ed gritted out, but he could feel himself growing paler by the minute.  Roy put his arm around Ed, and Ed leaned into him, wondering if he could get out of this by throwing up.

“You’re going to be fine.  I promise.”

“Yeah,” Ed said, barely more than a whisper.

They headed into Marcoh’s office, and the official stuff came then: Ed’s paperwork, recent blood tests from the clinic— _all of them—_ and an outline of treatment.  When Marcoh looked over his paperwork, right then and there, Ed knew that, even with his olive complexion, he might have reached the point of “white as a ghost.”

Marcoh looked up then, however, and saw the expression on his face.  He smiled faintly.  “It’s okay.  We aren’t a stranger to patients with HIV.”  Ed flinched at the word, but let him continue.  “The only people who will know are me and my associate.  Your information is completely protected.”

Ed nodded, looking down.

“As for treatment, we take something of a different approach to addiction.  We will be helping with detoxing, which is the standard physical reaction to withdrawal, but psychologically, there’s more to be done.  This won’t be your typical twelve step program; we’ve found those to be less effective in more prolonged cases.  Our therapy focuses more on identifying the root cause of addiction and teaching coping skills for that, tailoring an approach precisely for your needs.”

Ed wanted to say of course he fucking knew why he was addicted: because he had been taking drugs regularly for the past two years.  Instead, he just grimaced.

Roy reached out to take his hand.  “Ed, this is going to be good for you.”

“I know.”  And he should have.  Should have felt certainty.  Trust.  But right now, all he could feel was completely petrified.

“I’ll be here, Ed.”

“Except you won’t,” Ed muttered, but didn’t argue further.

And then Marcoh showed him to his room.

Ed had never had a dorm room, but he guessed that they were probably similar.  To his immense relief, a divider and a door separated him from his roommate, and though they shared a bathroom, he would at least be allowed some privacy.  And it _locked._

When Marcoh left them to settle in and say their goodbyes, Roy tugged off his hoodie, handing it over to Ed.  As he did, Ed caught a sudden whiff of _Roy._  He snatched it away, holding it tightly.  Roy just leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“I’ll come by after work, all right?”

Ed nodded mutely, trying to quash the anxiety still building in his stomach.

Roy reached out, cupping Ed’s face.  “You’ll be okay, Ed.  I promise.”

‘Okay, okay,” he grumbled, voice hoarse, watching him.

One last kiss, and Roy was gone.

Ed didn’t know how long he stood there, petrified, clutching Roy’s hoodie.  The next thing that jerked him out of his distraction was another sound by the door.  He turned—maybe Roy had returned—

But no, someone else stood there.  Someone a little taller than Ed, maybe about Ed’s age, though he looked a hell of a lot healthier.  He had golden skin, features that suggested possible Chinese ancestry, black hair pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck, and a somber, serious face.

At least, until he opened his mouth.

“Hi!  Got any drugs?” he asked, bright and chipper.  “Friendly to share.”

Ed gripped Roy’s hoodie even tighter, choking.  “You—I— _what?_ ”

“Do you have any drugs.”  The other young man spoke slowly, as if Ed were stupid, and—Ed bristled immediately.

“Of course not!” Ed snarled.  “That’s the entire fucking point of this place!”  Ed wasn’t the stupid one— _this_ guy had to be!

“Well, fine, be that way.”  He shrugged off Ed’s outburst without seeming to give even the tiniest bit of a shit, then stuck his hand out.  “I’m Ling.”

Ed glared at the outstretched hand.  “And I’m leaving.”  Stepping forward, he made to walk around this fucking nutcase.

“Hi, Leaving.  Nice to meet you.  But you can’t.”  Ling pointed to his bracelet.  “You’re checked in.”

“I meant this room.  Away from you.”

“I’m one of the patients here, too.  I don’t know how effective that could possibly be.”

“I’m really good at ignoring people,” Ed snapped.

Ling just tilted his head.  “I doubt that.”

Rolling his eyes, Ed shoved past him, not knowing where he was going, but wanting to get _somewhere_ else.

Ling, of course, followed, chattering, and the next time Ed was stuck outside in the freezing winter, he might bring the guy, given all the hot air he expelled.

“Ling Yao, actually.  Dad’s Chinese—well, my mom is too, but my dad is from _China_ China.  My mom grew up here, but y’know, the old man comes to the states for visits sometimes, gets a little friendly with the first generation locals, nine months later, here I am, a little bundle of joy!  Could’ve gone worse, but my mom’s smart as a whip, which is good, ‘cause my dad’s wife… well, let’s just say even out of his legitimate kids, I got the brains in the family.  Turning over the family business to any of those idiots would be a _travesty._  Only, I kinda got myself into a little bit of trouble, so inheritance is _totally_ off the table until I get cleaned up.  Which is proving to be a bitch, by the way; you in here for heroin?  God, I’d kill for some of the stuff right now.  Hell, it’s even kind of the old man’s fault that I’m in this position in the first place.  Thrusting young and impressionable me into his shady dealings, where drugs and temptations abound?  Yeah, it went kinda badly.  Lemme tell you, first thing _I’m_ doing when he hands over the reins is kicking all of those assholes to the curb and going full-on legitimate.  They probably found it funny, teaching the boss’s kid how to shoot up with his own product.  And the _parties._  Man, okay, those were fun, but really not the best place to bring a teenager…”

Ed was two seconds away from whirling and strangling this _jackass_ when he spotted a familiar face.  Red eyes; white hair, although its owner couldn’t have been older than his late twenties; dark skin, probably Middle Eastern too, though less golden than Ed’s; biceps that could kill a man with one flex (Ed wasn’t sure quite how, but he was sure it was _possible_ ); and an x-shaped scar over his face, the moniker by which everyone knew him.

Scar tilted his head, frowning slightly.  “You look familiar.”

Ed scowled, gritting his teeth.  What the fuck?  This was supposed to be a _safe_ place.  “You worked at Dionysus.”

“As a bouncer, yes.”  Scar crossed his arms, watching him carefully.  “How did you know?”

Ed flushed, scowling.  “Worked there too, sometimes,” he muttered, then ducked his head and tried to go around him.

“That’s where I recognize you.  You were…”

Ed clenched his fists.  “A hustler,” he got out, through gritted teeth.  Unfortunately, he forgot his current company.

“A hustler, huh?” Ling’s voice chimed, and Ed whirled, eyes wide.  Ling waggled his eyebrows at him.  “Hey, you wanna?  I got money.”

Ed lunged forward, grabbing Ling’s shirt, shoving him against the wall, glowering, not giving a shit at the jar of his shoulder.  “I have a boyfriend, you sick fuck!”

Ling’s eyebrows shot up, unperturbed.  “You do?  In a place like this?”

“Yes!” Ed snapped.  “Well, he’s not here, but we’re still together!”

Ling snorted, tilting his head.  “You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“He did leave you here, though.”

Ed recoiled, as if Ling had burned him.  “He _brought_ me here.  He’s still visiting.”

“So says you.”

“And I know better than you.  Sorry,” Ed spat.  “I wouldn’t sleep with you for a million dollars.”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Ling asked, still with that stupid fucking calm smile plastered across his face.

“Sometimes the truth is harsh.”

“I saw you pleading with him not to leave.  Quite the catch.  You think he’d be up for a little something on the side?”

Ed hissed, pulling his fist back—

A huge hand, practically the size of Ed’s head, grabbed his arm.  “That’s enough,” came Scar’s low voice.

Ed tried to wrench his arm away.  “Do you _hear_ this shit?”

Scar glared at Ling.  “You’re obviously upsetting him.  Stop, or this place will get a lot less cushy.”  He turned back to Ed, who couldn’t even begin to start getting free and was beginning to freak out.  “It’s Ling.  He hits on everything.  He didn’t mean it personally, and he won’t do it again.”

“Then I’ll fucking hit back!” Ed gasped, yanking his arm to the point where he nearly wrenched it.  Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , Scar was so much bigger, and he wouldn’t let go—  “You too, if you don’t fuckin’ stop!”  He twisted, yanking again, and yelped at the flash of pain that jolted through the arm.

Scar’s arms snaked around Ed’s chest, lifting Ed, pinning his arms.  “Stop.  You’re going to hurt—“

The pressure on his chest sent Ed into complete and utter _panic._  “Let me _go!_ ” he shrieked, thrashing, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.  Scar may have only been a customer once or twice, and very… perfunctory at that, but Ed had seen the things he could do with those muscles, and fuck, Ed couldn’t fight him off if he decided to—

Ling jumped forward.  “You’re hurting him, Scar!  Let him go!”

The grip around Ed loosened, and he thrashed harder, clawing, kicking, biting, anything to—

Scar released him, and Ed lunged forward, crashing to the floor.  Letting out another yelp of agony—fuck, that couldn’t have done his shoulder any favors—he scrambled up and over to a wall, whirling to put his back to it, eyes darting around for an escape.  Scar and Ling both covered the exits, and—

Ling moved, but instead of going for Ed, put his back to him, standing between him and Scar.  “Christ, Scar.  Let him punch me next time!”

Scar held up his hands, and Ed flinched back into the wall at the movement.  “I apologize.  I thought you were violent.”

Ed stilled, panting, hard, as the adrenaline surged through him, leaving him shaking.  He glanced at Ling’s  back, then over at Scar, taking a deep breath, trying to find words.

“’M—I’m not fucking _violent_ ,” Ed spat, pressing his palms back up against the wall, making himself a smaller target.  He glared at Ling.  “You crossed a fucking line.”

Ling barely glanced back over his shoulder.  “I do that sometimes.”  Turning back to Scar, he shrugged.  “Seriously, just let him punch me next time.  I know you want to.”

Ed set his jaw, swiping the back of his hand underneath his cheek.  The fear had begun to settle, luckily short-lived, but he could still feel himself shaking.

Scar looked over Ling, straight at Ed.  “Elric, I can’t hurt you, and I _won’t_ hurt you, but I can’t let you hurt other people, either.”

Ed hunched his shoulders, glaring up at him, trying to hide his fear.  He’d fucking heard _that_ one before, and coming from a client?  Wasn’t too promising.

“I swear it.  You’re safe with me.”

Ling relaxed, turning to face Ed.  “Hey, he’s an honest guy.  You’ll be  okay.”

Ed eyed Scar warily, trying unsuccessfully to get a read on that impassive face.  “We’ve met.”

“Good!  So you know he’s honest.”  The epitome of cheeriness, Ling reached out to grab Ed’s arm and drag him off.  Ed yanked his arm away after a few moments, but did slink away from Scar, following Ling.

“Watch the shoulder,” Ed muttered.  “It’s busted.”

“Oh, that sucks.  I know someone who busted hers, too.  Rotator cuff.  That was bad.  Hey, let me show you where the cafeteria is.  They might give you food, since you’re so skinny.  Holy _shit_ you are scrawny.”  He grinned back at Ed.  “How long were you on?”

Ed returned the grin with a scowl.  “Two years.  Why do you care?”

“I was on for six,” Ling replied cheerily, ignoring the question.  “Only got really bad over the last few, though.”

Ed continued to scowl.  “How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

So, Ed’s age then.  But shit, _six years?_  Ed just made a “hmph” sound, and Ling sighed.

“I’ve been in rehab for six months.”

Ed turned and gaped at him.  “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I can’t kick it.  Can’t go home until I do.”  He shrugged, seemingly unperturbed.  “This is my fourth place.  Been here about a month.  I do keep trying.”

“But?” Ed asked, wary.

“The cravings never go away for me.”

“Are they supposed to?”

“Sometimes.  I guess.  Not that I would know.”

Ed huffed.  “Well, I’m not gonna get stuck here like you.”

“Well, best of luck!”  And the bastard sounded so cheerful, too.

Ed nodded determinedly, setting his jaw, and Ling glanced over, a little startled.

“Damn, though.  Are you sure I can’t interest you in a threesome situation?”

Ed turned to glare.  Out of all the things wrong with that question, one pissed him off the most.  “If you think I’d even discuss it without _Roy_ here—“

Ling grinned hugely.  “But can you discuss it with Roy?”

Ed nearly spat at him to fuck off, but then paused to consider.  He could play this.  He watched Ling for a moment with an impassive expression, then raised an eyebrow.  “Well, you are pretty cute.  Stop talking my ear off and I might.”

Ling just laughed.  “I can get behind that.”

Ed waited until Ling wasn’t looking to roll his eyes.  Sucker.

The kitchen did, as Ling had predicted, give them food, and Ed dug in gratefully.  Both for the food, and for the silence.

For a few minutes, at least.

“So, my girlfriend?  She’s the actual _best._  Last time she visited, she brought me a tablet with all of the episodes of the shows I’ve missed while I’ve been in here—“

Ed’s anger simmered until he realized the glaring elephant here.

“You have a _girlfriend?_ ” he interrupted, outraged.  Also, what the fuck kind of girl would date _this_ jackass?

“Yes.  She’s completely amazing.  Remember when I was telling you—“

“And you’re a fucking _cheater?_ ” Ed spat, flashing back to the men who would hire him with a ring on their finger, or a ring-shaped pale spot.  “You’re scum!”

“Cheater?  Nah.”  Ling shrugged cheerfully, still working on his food.  “She likes to watch.  Or join in!  Hey, threesomes might not be your thing, but what about a foursome?  She does this thing with her mouth; holy shit—!”

“But—but if she’s so great, then why!” Ed snapped, watching him disbelievingly.

Ling turned, tilting his head.  “She’s still pretty great.  Love isn’t something that exists in finite quantities, y’know.  Neither is just plain being attracted to people.  We’re rock solid, and if she wants to hook up or I want to hook up or we _both_ want to hook up with someone hot,  as long as we’re both involved, we know that it’s all totally fine.”  He propped his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table.  “I should send her pictures of you.”

Oddly enough, Ling’s admiration didn’t carry the threat with it that so many others’ might have.  Maybe it was the cheeriness, or maybe it was the total indifference to whether or not his proposition panned out.  Either way, obnoxious as Ling was, he _seemed_ to be harmless.  Ed rolled his eyes, going back to his food.

“So, you slept with Scar?”

Ed choked, spitting his mashed potatoes across the table.  As he was reaching out to wipe them up, Ling stuck his fork into some of Ed’s green beans, chowing down on them and earning an elbow to the ribs for his trouble.  “Ow!”

“None of your fuckin’ business!” Ed growled, scooting his plate away and glaring.  “We’ve met.  That’s all you gotta know.”  He sighed, slumping back.  “God, I can’t believe I’m seeing him in rehab.”

“Well, he’s the doctor’s partner.”

Ed did a double take, then stared.  “Wait, like, boyfriend?”

Ling nodded.  “Yep.”

“Thought he wasn’t really into guys.”  Ed frowned slightly, staring at his food.  “Always seemed that way.”

“I think he likes older men.  And he’s mentioned having some issues with reconciling it with his religion.  But who knows.”

Ed thought back to Doctor Marcoh, who could have been twice Scar’s age, maybe.  “Makes sense, I guess.”

“So, you knew him.”  Ling watched Ed, clearly interested.

Ed shot him a look of exasperation.  “He was a bouncer at Dionysus.”

“Oh, your hangout?”

Ed hunched his shoulders a little, picking at his potatoes.  “Best place to pick up tricks, usually.  King Bradley’s place.”

“Oh, yeah.  Did I hear right, that he got busted?”

“Yeah.”  Ed could feel the bitter, hard satisfaction of revenge welling in his chest.  “The fucker deserved worse.”

“What did you hear about it?”

“I was there.”

“Oh, yeah?”  Ling seemed to perk right up, watching Ed intently, eyes bright.

Ed swallowed.  “Yeah.”  He scowled again, going back to his food.

“What happened!  You can’t just leave it like that?”

“They took him to jail.”

“And what else?  I heard it was a big thing!”

“It was.”

“Please?”  Ling slid his head into Ed’s view despite Ed’s best efforts.  “Just one story?”

Ed rolled his eyes, jabbing a fork viciously into a meatball and pretending it was Ling’s eye.  “Fine.  I snuck out to the club, sick as fuck with a Jarisch-Herxheimer reaction, and offered to suck dick for drugs and the guy turned out to be a cop.  It went badly.  I saw them arrest Bradley.  The end.”

“Why’d you sneak?  And you said your boyfriend put you in here; how’d that happen if you were arrested?”

Ed snorted.  “My boyfriend’s the one who arrested King Bradley.”

Ling’s eyes widened to the size of those meatballs.  “Really?  That’s _awesome._ ”

Ed’s eyes hardened.  “What, you wanna trade places?” he snapped.  All things considered, rich illegitimate son of a businessman seemed a whole hell of a lot better than eighty pound former prostitute.  They had weighed him when he was admitted; he had lost more weight while sick than he had realized.

“Well, your boyfriend is smoking hot, and a cop at that.  I wouldn’t mind a little time in handcuffs, if you know what I mean.”

Ed scowled.  “How do you know he’s hot?”

“Who else could be with such a fine specimen?”  He eyed Ed idly, then shrugged.  “I also saw him when he was leaving.  Remember, I saw you two talking?  Dark haired, Japanese guy, tattoos?”

Ling’s teasing from earlier flashed through Ed’s mind.  “Well, the only way you’ll get to spend any time in his handcuffs is if you piss me off enough, and not in the way you like.”

“I’d also like to get closer acquainted with his tattoos,” Ling continued, watching Ed as he smirked.

Ed gripped his fork, hand shaking a little.  “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving me the fuck alone?”

“I’m just being friendly!”  Ling took another decisive bite of his food.

“Well fucking _stop!_ ”  Ed pointed the fork at him, not quite brandishing, but it was shaking.  His breathing—when had it stopped coming regularly; when had it started catching in panic?  “I’m so—so fucking sick of—of hearing about sex!”  He laughed, desperately—why was he laughing?  “So just—just fuck off, okay!”

Ling stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged, turning back to his food.  “Good thing about this place is that the food’s pretty good, when the cooks have time to make it.”  He grinned again and glanced over at Ed.  “Group’s in a couple hours.  Wanna come?”

“No.”

“You can just watch.  They don’t make you talk.”

“Not if you’re there,” Ed muttered.

“C’mon, it won’t be so bad.  And you’ll get to meet some of the other people here.”

“I said no!” he snapped, glaring.

“Fine, fine.”  Ling raised his hands, still smiling.  “I won’t go, but you should.  Just to get a look at everyone.”

Ed glared, suspicious.  “But you were going to go.”

Ling shrugged.  “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve missed group.”

“Don’t stop yourself on my account.”

“I can use some of my Xbox time without fighting anyone over it; you get to meet everyone and put names to faces; I think it’s a win-win.”

“Don’t think so.”  Ed shoved the last of his meatballs into his mouth and stood to go get more.


	24. Chapter 24

Ed did not go to group.  That evening, he received notice that he had a visitor.

Nearly tripping over himself as he ran to the visitor’s room, ignoring the other people there, the plush furnishings.  When he spotted Roy, he threw himself at him.

Shit, even a few hours without him sucked.

Roy grinned, squeezing Ed tightly.  “Ed!  How are you?  What’s it like?”

“It’s _terrible_ ,” Ed gasped, voice fervent.  “I thought Scar was gonna—”  Ed shuddered, shaking his head.  “And there’s this guy who keeps talking about wanting to fuck me and fuck you and asking me questions and for drugs—”  He leaned forward, burying his face in Roy’s chest.

“Scar?”  Roy wrapped his arms around Ed.

“Was a bouncer at Dionysus,” Ed muttered.  “Former client.  Apparently he’s dating the doctor guy now.”

“And this other guy?  Is he bothering you a lot, love?”

Ed grimaced.  “He left me alone after we ate, but…”

“But…?”  Roy stepped backwards, tugging Ed with him, sitting on one of the couches and pulling Ed against him.

“Can I please go home?”

Roy winced.  “I’m sorry, Angel.  That’s not… we can’t.”

Ed hadn’t expected anything different, but still, he swallowed, clinging to Roy and hunching his shoulders.

Roy tugged him in, holding him tighter.  “It will get easier.  I promise.”  When Ed just moaned, miserable, Roy kissed the top of his head.  “Things usually do.”

“I have to stay here?”  Ed knew how pitiful he had to sound, but at this point, all he wanted was to get Roy to help him out of here.  “Overnight?”

“I’m afraid so.”  Roy rubbed at his back gently.  Ed exhaled.

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”  he tugged Ed tighter, and Ed went willingly.  “Anything else of note happen today?”

“Not really.  Food sucks less than I thought.”

Roy chuckled softly, and Ed felt it rumble through him.  “Good.  I think you’ll have a physical in a couple days, so they should adjust your diet.”  Roy’s fingers moved, rubbing at the vertebrae of Ed’s spine.  “You do have some weight to gain back.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” Ed muttered.  “He picked me up like I was a rag doll.”

“This Scar guy?”

“Yeah.”  Ed huffed.  “Isn’t this doctor guy your friend?”

“Yes.  From a long while ago.  He was a medic, when I—when we were overseas.”

“I see.”  Ed sighed against his chest.  Roy hiked him a little higher, and Ed settled in obligingly.

“Why?”

“Just wondering.  I guess if you trust him…”  Ed couldn’t suppress his skepticism, _especially_ knowing that Scar was a former client, but if Roy trusted the guy, Ed could tolerate him.

“Well, yes.  He’s a good doctor.  Why do you ask?”

“I told you.  Just curious.”

“All right.”  His hand ran up and down Ed’s back, holding him, and he soon transitioned into telling stories about his work, the continuing romantic saga of his coworkers, and other tales.  Ed half listened, but eventually dozed, safe in Roy’s arms.

He did, eventually, have to leave, and Ed woke fully at that, looking up at him morosely.  Roy leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”  When Ed’s expression didn’t change, he sighed, then tilted Ed’s chin up so their eyes met.  “I’m sorry.  I love you, and I _will_ be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ed grumbled, but he didn’t let go of Roy.  Roy had to do that for him, setting him gently down on the couch and walking away as Ed watched.

Ed eventually wandered out of the visitor’s room, planning to head back to his own room to pace for a bit—or maybe sleep; _fuck_ he was tired—but a very brief touch on his arm sent him whirling, ready to bite someone’s (Ling’s) head off.

When he spotted the perpetrator, however, his anger immediately deflated.  The young woman was tall, with pretty, long brown hair, and dark skin the shade of Scar’s, a shade or two darker than Ed’s.  Two streaks of pink hair framed her smiling face, and Ed redirected his anger into a soft huff.

“It’s movie night.”  Her smile widened a little as Ed watched her.  “C’mon.  I’ll help you get a good spot.”

Ed blinked at her uncertainly.  “Huh?”

“Tonight is movie night.  If you want to come.”  She held out her hand, and Ed realized something else: she was completely bone thin.  “I’m Rose.”

Ed glanced at her hand, but didn’t take it, and she withdrew it, looking a little relieved, even.  “Ed.  Why movie night?”

“It’s basically so the attendants have a couple hours to go over paperwork from the night and weekend crew, but it’s usually fun.”

She looked so damn _sweet_ , and hopeful, and Ed sulked a little at how he couldn’t say no _now._  “What’s playing?”  Not that he remotely knew what would be out; being drugged up for two years didn’t give you much time to stay in the movie loop.

“Not sure.  It might be that new heist film?  I’ve heard it’s supposed to be very good!”

Ed shrugged.  “Sure.  I’ll follow you, then.”  Besides, how bad could a movie be?

Not bad at all, Ed soon learned.  Ling waved at him from the other side of the room, but made no attempt to approach him, and no one seemed to have any issue with him keeping away from the group.  Rose did, too, but she didn’t get too close, either, judging his personal space surprisingly well.  And Ed enjoyed the movie, too: while the flirtatious, cocky, quick-talking, forward hero didn’t sit too well with him, the fact that the heroine wouldn’t give him the time of day at first and completely avoided becoming romantically involved with anyone left him very satisfied.  And the con was very well done too; usually, Ed had the damn thing figured out within ten minutes of the planning, but this one kept him preoccupied with guessing for a good thirty.  When he wasn’t half asleep, at least.  Fuck, he couldn’t even mind the early bedtime he was probably going to get.

When it finished, Rose held out her hand.  Ed hesitated, then accepted it for just as long as it took her to help him up.  “Lights out is soon.  Did you like the movie?”

“Yeah, it was pretty cool.”  Ed shoved his hands in his pockets, and Rose did the same, chatting idly with him about the characters as they walked back to his room.

When they reached it, she smiled at him, warm and bright.  “I hope you can recover here.”

“If I can anywhere.”  Even to his own ears, Ed sounded tired.

“Doctor Marcoh is a good man.  He’ll help.”

“I’m sure he will,” Ed muttered darkly, and she tilted her head.  Ed just sighed.  “I don’t really trust people.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  Maybe being here will help.”  She smiled at him.  “Good night, Ed.”

Ed snorted softly.  “Night.”

His roommate, whoever he was, had already turned out his lights, and Ed crept over to his bed, changing into his pajamas, and pulling on Roy’s hoodie.  Surrounded by smells of Roy, he crawled up into the bed, curling up in a corner.  As he did so, however, he felt a crinkle around his hips.

He frowned slightly, reaching into the pocket and pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper, folded into quarters, with the word “Edward” in fancy-ass handwriting on one side.  He unfolded it and began to read.

_Hey, Ed._

_I’m sorry I’m not there.  If I could be, I would.  I thought you could use some encouragement, so I wanted to put it in writing for when I’m not there to say it._

_I love you.  You are the strongest person I know, and brave and kind and so good that I feel like Scrooge sometimes.  You’re phenomenal in so many ways, and I know you don’t like me saying it, but you are.  I find it hard to stop myself, at times. I love you, and I’ll miss, more than anything, waking up to you and going to sleep beside you.  But knowing that you can do this, that you’re going to come out of this healthy, and whole, no matter how hard it seems now, gives me the strength to get up in the morning and face the world._

_You are, in every way, the stars in my sky, and I will love you until the day the Earth goes cold._

_All my love,_

_Roy_

Ed didn’t notice the tears streaming down his face until he finished, inhaling sharply, and felt the cold wetness on his cheeks.  He reached up with a shaking hand to brush his fingers against it gently, and something seemed to break inside him, shift in his chest.  Before he realized, he was curled up and sobbing, gasping and shaking as he curled around a pillow, letter propped up on it, his last piece of Roy besides the one he was wearing.

The lights eventually dimmed, leaving Ed staring into the darkness and sniffling quietly.  But despite his dizzying exhaustion, despite his fatigue from the tears, it took a very, very long time before sleep claimed him.

—

Unfortunately, the next morning, Ed didn’t want to get out of bed.

He knew it had been way more than eight hours since lights out, but a combination of trouble falling asleep, unpleasant dreams with vaguely familiar presences, and waking himself up _screaming_ made for a very badly-rested addict.

At least Rose walked with him to breakfast.  Despite the fact that he probably looked like hell.  Got him coffee, too, giggling softly at his look when she handed it to him.

“You’re on the schedule to see Marcoh today.”

Ed jerked his head up to look at her, then back down.  “Oh”

“That’s a good thing!  It means you start getting one-on-one treatment.”

“Yippee.”

She smiled sadly, and Ed winced.  “What?”

“I was the same way when I showed up.  You were a sex worker, weren’t you?  I was, too.”

Ed choked, staring at her, alarmed, but then hunched his shoulders.  “So?”

She shook her head.  “Nothing, I was just the same way.  The treatment does work well!  I’m still working on gaining weight, and the cravings only come back occasionally, but Marcoh’s been working with me about avoiding situations that trigger them, so…”

“Great.”  Ed’s mouth twisted, and he looked away.  He didn’t _want_ to say anything uncharitable,not when she had so much faith, not when she was so _happy._  He couldn’t take that faith from her, not when he could only begin to imagine how hard it had been for her to gain it back.

Didn’t mean he had to share it, though.

“I’ve only been here three weeks.”  She smiled over at him, encouraging.

“How’d you get out?”

“I wanted out.  The owner of the strip club where I had been working, he got me hooked on the drugs, then into… more full-service work.  I had handled a number of unpleasant clients all at once, and I was done.  I had heard of Marcoh; he has a really good reputation for this sort of thing, and for being fair, even if you can’t pay.  I came here and promised him that I would work for him once I was clean, to repay him.”

Ed nodded.  “So, I gotta go see him then?”

“Yep.  At eleven.”

“And it’s… nine fifteen now?  The fuck do I do until then?”

“A lot of us work on our GED, if we need it.  Or do work on their profession, that sort of thing.  If you don’t have anything like that, you can read.  The attendants can check you out books at the local library if you make a list, though that takes a few days.  And you haven’t  been here long enough to earn TV time, but once you have, you can do that, too.”

Ed grimaced.  “You have to earn TV time?”

She nodded.  “No fights, participating in programs, doing your assigned work, keeping your room clean, stuff like that.  Games, too.  They’re big on rewards here, and it helps you get adjusted back to a normal life.  Gives you structure.”

Ed just sighed.

“It’s not so hard.  Promise.”  She took a bite of her oatmeal.

“Well, I still don’t have anything to do,” Ed muttered, though he did think longingly of his bed.  Still, with his luck, he’d sleep through his meeting with Marcoh.

“We have a small library.  Want to take a look?”

Ed perked up at that.  “Really?”

She nodded, and the moment she finished her directions, Ed had dashed off, leaving a rattling bowl behind him.

—

Much of his meeting was Marcoh speaking to him.  For that, Ed was actually grateful; though Marcoh attempted to encourage conversation initially, he accepted that Ed didn’t want to speak and didn’t force him.  He outlined a more in-depth treatment plan: drugs (the medical kind, unfortunately) at certain times of the day, group therapy (ugh), exercise, specialized diets…

“I’d like to meet with you twice a week.  I do want you to be prepared for these sessions, however; I will be discussing many personal things with you, things that you might not feel comfortable sharing initially.  If you’d like to avoid answering a question when I ask it, then absolutely, but please understand that I do ask them only so I can help you faster.”  He steepled his fingers.  “I have had the barest outlines of your situation explained to me, just enough that I know you’ve been through a lot, and recently.  Please remember that your safety is paramount here.”

Ed nodded, setting his jaw.  Talking about shit was going to _suck_.  But if he had to bare the details of every single gang rape to this man to get home to see Roy in a month, he would do it.

That didn’t stop him from being scared, even of being alone in the same room as Marcoh.  And with this sort of authority… the knowledge of how he could abuse it, use it to pressure Ed, or people like Rose… it left him sick.

But Marcoh remained very professional and friendly without so much as glancing Ed over in that filthily familiar way.

“You sure I can’t go home to sleep at night?” Ed muttered, finally.

Marcoh watched him very carefully, and Ed wondered if he hadn’t said more than he had meant to.  After a few moments, however, he spoke.  “I can’t let the other patients go home.  I’m afraid you aren’t allowed any different treatment.”

Ed slumped and nodded, feeling weariness overtake him once again.

“Stick to this plan.  Roy can visit, and you’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Ed murmured, soft enough that it was almost a whisper.

Marcoh handed over the paper.  “If you need more meetings than the ones scheduled, find Scar and we’ll set it up.”

Ed flinched at the name, freezing, trying not to look too terrified—and apparently failing miserably.

“He can look scary, but he’s not.”  When Ed didn’t seem to improve at that, glancing away, Marcoh continued.  “Would you rather come straight to me?”

Ed nodded, and Marcoh did as well.  “Okay.  You can come straight to me if you have concerns, then.”  Ed nodded again, and Marcoh motioned to the paper.  “Do you think you can follow this?”

At Ed’s third nod, Marcoh nodded back, then proceeded to explain the rewards system to him.  Ed got most of it, but found himself nodding off despite himself…

“And you’ll notice I’ve included naps on your schedule.  For the next few days, at least, you’ll be needing those.  Methamphetamine withdrawal can cause exhaustion.  If we let you, you might sleep through the next week, but for now, I think you’re scheduled for some sleep.”

Ed felt like his head was on a string at this point, nodding obediently.  He didn’t even have the presence of mind to even consider his complacency to be a problem.  Marcoh had mentioned the magic word.   _Sleep._

“You can go do that now.  Lunch will still be available once you’re up, and then after a break you can begin exercise.”

Ed was pretty sure that a few more words were exchanged in the process, but eventually, he was free.  Free to stagger out of the office, make his way to his room, collapse, and sleep like the dead.

—

A knock on Ed’s door had him staggering over to the door, rubbing at his eyes, yanking it open.  The attendant looked briefly alarmed, and he scowled ferociously, lifting his hand to smooth out his hair.  It didn’t seem to help her alarm, for some reason.  Weird.

“I’ve, ah, brought your medication.”

Ed glanced at the tray with the small cup inside it, picking it up to examine the three pills, and his scowl deepened.  “What’s this for?”

“Your antiretrovirals.”

Ed froze, feeling as if she had just slapped him in the face, and stared at the pills.  This was it.  This was his reality from here on out.

“Don’t worry,” she continued softly.  “We keep it quiet and won’t tell anyone.  But I do need to see you take them before I go.”

Ed huffed, but tilted the cup back, popping the pills into his mouth and swallowing before opening his mouth to show that they were gone.  She hesitated, and Ed raised an eyebrow.  “Yeah?”

“Doctor Marcoh mentioned that you had exercise scheduled as well, and he recommended that I show you to the exercise room, so you could start on that.”

Ed glanced backwards longingly towards his bed, then back at her…  “Yeah,” he muttered.  “Might as well.”

As he soon learned, the exercise room _was_ a lot nicer than he had expected, with plenty of equipment.  Ed glanced at the weights, the bike, other devices that looked like they might be torture machines instead…

He sighed, headed for a treadmill, and switched it on.

It sucked, honestly, but Ed had done way worse.  And he didn’t actually have to run, just switched it to a quick walk and went.

Eventually, however, Ed heard the sound of weights being set down, and he glanced over to see Ling heading over towards him.  He hunched his shoulders, switching off the treadmill in case he had to cut a bitch.

“Hey, wanna learn to fight?”

At that, Ed turned, staring in surprise.  “What?”

“My granddad taught me.  Scar teaches, too, but I can show you some moves.  Doc doesn’t like it, but he gets that self defense can help.”

The sudden anxiety of the thought of Scar doing _anything_ remotely aggressive around Ed was quickly encompassed by the lure of learning to _actually_ cut a bitch.  “Don’t wanna learn from Scar.  Show me.”

Ling headed straight for the mats in a corner of the room, and Ed followed.  He walked Ed through stretching, then through a couple of basic moves, like how to properly throw a punch and how to balance when dodging.  Throughout the entire lesson, however, Ed noticed that despite flinching the first several times Ling came too close, Ling was careful to keep his hands at least an inch from Ed’s skin when he had him change positions.

It made sense, too, a lot of it; once Ling showed him and explained a little behind it, the physics started to click into place, and Ling seemed to be very excited with Ed’s rapidfire questions.  Ed soon forgot to be hesitant, and though he idly noted Ling’s excitement at having someone who so thoroughly absorbed his tutelage, he focused mostly on improving himself.  He didn’t even notice how much of a sweat he had worked up until they paused, panting.  Ed thought for a few moments, debating, then made a decision.

“Show me how to get out of being grabbed.”

Ling hesitated, watching him carefully.  “To show you that, I’ll have to touch you.”

Ed nodded, a steely look in his eyes.  “I know.”

“Okay!”  And there he was, back to his normal cheerful self.  “Let me know if you want me to stop.”  He then went on to demonstrate basics of getting out of different holds before actually initiating contact.

Ed forced himself to power through, noting how carelessly careful Ling seemed to be.  Though he never let on when something bothered Ed, he always seemed to switch to something else before it became truly unbearable, cheerful the entire time.

He began to forgive Ling.  A little.  Even offered him a smile, a _small_ one, when they finished.

Of course, Ed then proceeded to jump about six feet in the air when sudden clapping sounded.

He turned, and Rose stood there, beaming.  “I just wanted to let you two know that lunch is ready.”  When Ed didn’t reply, only glanced over at Ling, and she shrugged.  “I’ve only been watching for a few minutes.  You two are good!”

Ling grinned and bowed, and Ed cleared his throat.  “Uh, thanks.  So, lunch?”

“Yep!”  She motioned him along.

Ed went, and Ling, taking Ed’s glance for the invitation that it was, followed.  “Ready, as always.”

For once, Ed didn’t feel the need to yell at him.  Ling proceeded to eat as much as Ed, the both of them leaving Rose in the dust.  She and Ling filled in the gaps in conversation that Ed left, Ling ridiculous and Rose dry in response.

Ed half-listened, enjoying his pizza…

“But man, those antiretrovirals will kick your ass.”

 _Panic_ , sheer, unrelenting panic, surged through Ed, and he yanked back from the two of them, nearly sending his pizza crashing to the floor.  Rose rescued it while Ed stared at Ling in horror.  How had he known?  And clearly he was so much of a blabbermouth that it wasn’t safe from _anyone_ now--god, what was he going to—

“Don’t worry,” Ling chirped, still cheerful.  “I won’t bleed on you or anything.”

“Huh?”  The words took a few moments for Ed to process, and he relaxed slightly.  “Wait, you’re… oh.”

Ling tilted his head.  “What did you think?”

“Nothing,” Ed answered, far too quickly, but Ling just shrugged.

“I hate taking them.  They give me a headache and I’m not allowed to have Tylenol or anything.”  He glanced back over at Ed.  “I was hooked on prescription drugs.  Technically still am, I guess.”

Ed bristled a little at the nonchalant words.  “Well, if you’d rather the alternative.  If you’d gotten it on the streets, you’d be fucked.”

“Huh?”

“If you don’t want to take them, then don’t.  There are probably a dozen guys who would accept them in a second!”  Ed’s breath seemed to come shorter, his chest tighter.  He couldn’t tell what caused it—anger, fear—but it could fuck right off.

“Of course I want to take them.”  Ling stared at Ed like he had just grown a second head and then yelled at Ling for causing it.  “I just can’t do anything about the headaches but lie down.”

Ed just shrugged, trying not to grimace, shaking his head, and went back to his food, scowling.

“Are you okay, Ed?” Rose asked quietly, setting her fork down

Ed jumped, turning to look at her, swallowing a little in alarm.  “What?”

“You seem… jumpy.”

“Like how?”  He glanced away, wishing Roy were here even more than he usually did.

“You just jumped when I said your name.”

Ed let out a huff, glaring up at her.  “I wasn’t expecting it!”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he just fidgeted, looking down at his hands.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Ed stayed quiet for a few moments, questions dancing on his tongue, then he lifted his head, looking at Ling.  “How can you be so casual about it?”

Ling blinked, mouth stuffed full of pizza, and swallowed quickly.  “Casual about what?”

“Having it!”  He glared.

Ling just shrugged.   _Shrugged._  “I have it.  I have to live with it.  I can’t let it end me early.”

“But—fuck, how can you not be angry?  How did you get it?”  Ed knew that he was being personal, far too personal, but right now, he didn’t care.

“Started doing heroin when the prescription drugs weren’t cutting it.”  He shrugged again.  “Didn’t think about the needles.”

Ed pressed his lips together, trying to suppress his frustration.  So… so fucking casual.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You seem weird.”

Ed glared over at Ling.  “You’re one to talk!”

“Thanks.  I’ll take that cutting insult to my grave.”

Ed glowered, but Ling only smirked back.  When Ed stared him down, Ling just went back to his food, leaving Ed to pick at his own, angry and a little scared.

—

“Hey, question.”

Ling had spent most of the walk to Ed’s room in silence, for which Ed was grateful, but good things couldn’t last forever.  Ed just looked up, not replying.

“Do you have HIV?”

Ed flinched, shoulders hunching, watching Ling warily.  “What the fuck kind of business is it of yours?”

“I was just wondering.”  Ling shrugged, looking all the world like he was having a conversation of the weather.

“Yeah, well, why?”

Ling sighed.  “I told you, just wondering.”

“And I asked _you_ , why?”

“You seemed weird when we were talking about it.  I think you’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

Ed pressed his lips together.  “Yeah.  I got it,” he said sharply.

“Okay.  That’s fine.  Do the drugs give you a headache?”

“I just started taking them _today_ ,” Ed snapped, then laughed a little hysterically.  “It isn’t fine!”

“I’m… sorry?”  Again, Ling just shrugged, and Ed saw red.

“I’m—this thing is going to kill me.  How the fuck is it fine?  I’m never going to be able to live without wondering when it will, or thinking about everything I’ve done.”  He laughed again, bitterly.  “Or who’s fucking done me.”

“You got it from sex.  I got it from a dumb mistake I made.  I guess it’s different for us.  Scar has it, too.  And before you get your panties in a twist about me telling you that, he’s open about it.  Says it helps people with it realize that we’re not alone or whatever.”

It did, in a weird way, though Ed would never admit that.  His lips twisted into a smile, still bitter.  “I don’t even know who to be fuckin’ mad at.”

“That would make it harder,” Ling murmured, watching Ed speculatively.  “A sort of helpless impotence.”

“My pimp is positive,” he said, coldly.

“You think that’s where you got it?”

Ed shook his head.  “I don’t fuckin’ know.  It went one way or the other, probably.  But I dunno if I should hate him for giving it to me, or… fuck.”  Ed rubbed his palms against his eyes.  “Fuck!”

“Or if…?”

“I don’t know.”  Ed slumped, suddenly tired.

Ling shrugged.  “That’s okay.  If you need someone to talk, I’m here.”

Ed snorted.  “Like about what, fucking my boyfriend?”

“While I wouldn’t be opposed, that wasn’t my intent.”  Ling smirked.  “But it could be a perk.”

The words didn’t bother Ed the way they would have yesterday; Ling was obviously just being a shit because he could.

“Then what was your intent?”

“Everyone needs a friend.”

Ed squinted at him skeptically.  “And you wanna be mine.”

“Why not?  Gotta be someone, right?”

Ed hunched his shoulders, looking away.

“Think on it.”  Ling shrugged one more time, then peeled off for his room.

—

That day, Ed went to group.

To his immense relief, no one was required or even expected to talk.  Rose did, talked about how she was hopeful for her recovery and glad that she had made friends, and that she hoped her sister would visit soon.  Ling didn’t.  Neither did Ed.  But despite his initial skepticism about it being “hokey” or something, he could see how it might help.

When it finished, Ed wandered up to Ling, heading off with him.  Though when starting a conversation he had been a little worried about running out of things to talk about, that concern quickly vanished.  Ling barely left a breath for Ed to talk.

Ed learned about his drug addiction starting in high school, the prescription painkillers, and then how, when he had decided they weren’t enough, some of the less legitimate areas of his father’s business proved to be too tempting to resist.  Ed learned more about Ling’s father’s businesses, about how he wanted to clean up the dirty parts and strengthen the clean ones.  He learned about how Ling had dropped out of college, and off the map for a couple of drug-fueled years, and after being found out by his family, had been told to get clean or else.

“Well, shit.  What did you study?”

“Business with a minor in international relations.”

“Sounds thrilling.  Was that one your idea?”

Ling laughed a little.  “No, I would have liked to get into drama or acting, but no way would my father have paid for that.”

“You could get a scholarship.”

Ling laughed.  “Yes, rehab looks amazing on an application.”  He sighed, shrugging.  “I think I’ve stayed here so long because I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get out.  Yeah, I’ll get the business one day, but it’s not like I can do shit until I do get it.  Which won’t be for a while.”

“So figure something out, then.  You wanna go into drama?  There are ways to.”

“And there are even more ways to end up out on the streets.”

“Well, then I’ll kick your ass and make sure you don’t,” Ed muttered.

Ling tilted his head, watching Ed, and laughed.  “That could be inspiring.”

“Try terrifying!”

“Could also work.”  Ling reached out to punch Ed gently in the shoulder, and Ed didn’t flinch or even think about it until after it happened.  “Listen, you get into your schools.  I’ll get into mine.”

“Deal,” Ed said firmly.

“So, where do you wanna go?”

Ed sighed, looking away.  “Sent in some applications to Chicago schools.  And a couple of other places.”

“Awesome.  Like what?”

Ed cleared his throat.  “MIT, Stanford, Harvard, Berkeley…”

“Damn!”  When Ed turned to look at Ling, Ling was watching him back, impressed.  “Don’t go to Yale, though.  I hated it.  What are you going for?”

“Biochem.  And stuff.”

“That’s fucking awesome.”

“I’m gonna cure it,” Ed said, almost casually, but he knew that he had a glint in his eyes.

“Cure… HIV?”  Ling looked surprised at that, and almost… hungry.

“Yeah.”  Ed glanced over at him.  “It’s gotta happen sometime.”

“And you’re going to do it.”  Despite the confidence in Ling’s voice, Ed still caught the question.

“Yes.”

“Great.  I volunteer as a test subject.  As long as there are no headaches.”

Ed snorted.  “Gotta get outta here first.”

“You’ll do it.”  Ling’s hand reached out and squeezed Ed’s.  “We’ll do it.”

Ed turned, eyebrows raising in surprise.  “What, all it takes is some drugged out whore to work past six months in rehab?”

“Nah, takes someone to kick my ass.”

“That I can do.  And enjoy it.”

“My, Ed.  You enjoy my ass?”  He leaned back, fanning himself.

“Roy’s is better,” Ed said flatly.

“I can’t wait to see it, then.”  Ling smirked, and Ed just rolled his eyes.

“You’re not his type, sorry.”

“What’s his type?  Blond?  I’ll dye my hair.”

“Tolerable,” Ed shot back, deadpan.  “And classy.”

“What about wanting to be an actor didn’t make it through your head?”

“Oh, no, it did.”  Ed smirked.  “Hence the assessment.  If you’re an actor, you can’t be classy.  And he won’t be fooled.”

Ling sighed, settling onto Ed’s bed.  “Tell me about him?”  Ed sat next to him, considering.

“Well, he’s a cop, but one of the good ones.  He can be really pushy, but like, also in a good way.  He made me apply to schools.  And he can be a smug bastard sometimes, but it’s stupidly hot.”

“Yeah?”  Ling grinned over at him, and Ed offered him a grin back.  “What else?”

“I mean, he got me out.  Even when he was an undercover drug dealer, he cared enough to get me out.  I still can’t fuckin’ believe it.”  He shook his head, and a soft tap sounded from the door.  The attendant from earlier poked her head in, smiling at Ed.

“You have a visitor.”

Ed felt as if the sun had suddenly begun to shine in the room, and he jumped up, then turned to Ling, grinning.

“You want to meet him?”

Link blinked up at him.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  Sure.”

“You’re not afraid of me stealing him away?”

Ed rolled his eyes.  “Don’t push your luck.  Like I said, you’re not his type.”

Ling shrugged.  “I had to try.”  But he did stand.  “I’d like to meet him.  Gotta judge if he’s good enough for you, after all,” he drawled before swaggering out.

Ed rolled his eyes, hurrying forward to elbow him out of the way and beat him there.


	25. Chapter 25

Roy’s first indication that Ed had arrived was a golden streak rushing towards him, jumping into his arms.

Every moment kissing Ed felt like the kiss of a lifetime, a rare gift that Roy _still_ couldn’t believe he was given, day after day.  Roy kissed Ed back, hoping that his own desperation, his own _yearning_ for Ed came through.  Ed pulled back and beamed at him, and Roy leaned forward with a grin just as wide, pressing his forehead against Ed’s as they stared into each other's eyes.

Ed’s self control failed first, and he leaned in again, pressing their lips together.  Roy kissed him back, and they continued to kiss, slow and lingering, until a disgusted noise sounded from beside them.

“God, you two are gross.”

Instead of snarling at the smirking young man watching them from the couch, Ed just smirked back.

“Roy, this is Ling.”

And Ed was all right, with this Ling being here?  Things certainly did change.  Roy offered his hand.  “Hello, Ling.”

Ling glanced him up and down very appraisingly, shaking, eyes lingering on Roy’s tattoo.  “You’re much better looking in person than you were through the window.”

Pre-warned by Ed, Roy just shrugged, laughing a little.  “Thank you.”

“I keep on telling him he’s not your type,” Ed drawled.  “You know, tolerable and classy.  But he insists otherwise.”

Despite Ed’s casual tone, Roy didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders, the way Ed’s eyes flicked between Ling and Roy.  Roy took Ed’s hand, then turned to Ling and said, seriously, “I apologize, sir, but I’m afraid I’m spoken for, type or not.”

Ed whirled to look at Roy, outraged, but the tension in his shoulders had vanished.  Roy smiled at him a little ruefully.

“Ed, darling, I don’t particularly have a type.  I know what I like when I see it, and I saw you.”  He lifted Ed’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, mollifying Ed.

Ling, of course, gagged.  “God, Ed, keep him!  I’d prefer someone who could fuck me into the mattress.”

To Roy’s quiet shock, Ed smirked.  “Oh, he can.”  Leaning in, he kissed Roy’s cheek.  “Good work.  He’s been bothering me for threesomes and foursomes since he met me.”

“Oh, this is the one.  Do you need me to threaten him?”  Roy did his best to keep his face serious, but he couldn’t suppress the little chest flips of joy over the fact that Ed had made a friend.

“Sure.  Did you bring your gun?  Can _I_ see your gun?”

Edward Elric with a weapon.   _That_ was a scary thought.  “No.  I’m not allowed to bring weapons in here.”

“Really?” Ling broke in, nodding at Roy’s arms.  “Because those guns tell a different story.”

Though Roy had grinned immediately at the words, it was Ed’s look of utter disbelief as he stared at Ling, disgusted, that sent Roy toppling over into peals of laughter.  Each time he finally thought he had himself under control, Ed’s annoyance and Ling’s smug satisfaction sent him off again.

“Yeah,” Ed muttered.  “So, in recent news, Rose is the only friend I have left in this place…”

“Hey, that’s no fair!”  Ling sulked, and Roy finally managed to catch his breath.

“You didn’t tell me he was hilarious.”

“You hear that?  He thinks I’m hilarious!”

Ed glared at _both_ of them, but Roy caught the hints of a smile playing around his lips.  “He’s _awful._  I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, either, it seems like.”

Roy reached out, tugging Ed in and wrapping him in a hug, huge and tight the way he knew Ed liked.  “What about now?”

Ed sighed melodramatically.  “Well, maybe.”

Roy squeezed tighter, feeling Ed slowly relax into him.  “Am I your boyfriend again yet?”

“I guess so.”

“Guess isn’t very strong.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Roy pulled back, staring at him with a far too dramatic expression on his face.  “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Ed lifted his nose into the air.  “I’ll think about it.”

“Can I bring you Wendy’s next time?”

Ed’s face lit up like a firework at that, then belatedly tried to look nonchalant.  “Well, maybe.”

“I’ll ask Marcoh if I can.”  He tugged Ed in again, squeezing, and looked over at Ling.  “I’ll ask if I can bring some for you, too.”

Ling punched the air in victory, and Ed grimaced.  “Fine.  I’ll eat his, too.”

“I can’t just sit here and discuss bringing you food while your friend is patiently letting us be gross over here.”

“Disgusting!” Ling called over helpfully.

“He’s not patient.  He probably gets off on it.”  Ed turned, sticking his tongue out at Ling.  Roy turned as well, shaking his fist at him, but he couldn’t help but smile back.  Someone like this would be good for Ed.  A little obnoxious, maybe, but Ed could certainly stand to lighten up a little, someone who would cause mischief around him to remind him that it was all right to laugh.  Someone his age.  Someone…

But Roy ignored the uncomfortable twinge, returning his attention to Ed, petting his hair.  He was the one who spotted the chess board, and upon casual inquiry, found out that Ling played as well.  It barely took any convincing to talk Ling into a game of chess.

Ed, of course, glared at Ling.  “What, stealing time with my boyfriend?”

Though Roy could tell he wasn’t serious, he settled Ed in his lap before setting up the chessboard.  Ed peered at it, idly suggesting moves.

“Shush.  Two on one isn’t fair.”

“Please.  I bet Ling likes it that way.”

“Why do you think my girlfriend and I like foursomes?  We both do.”

Making a face, Ed glanced back at the chessboard.  “Move that horse thing up two spots.”

“Ed, knights don’t move that way.”

“That’s a horse.”

“That piece is called a knight.”

Ed snorted.  “What the fuck ever.  Weirdass game.”  He leaned back into Roy, and Roy shook his head, playing with Ed’s hair.

Though Ling won the first game, Roy won the next three, and with Ed so close to him, he might as well have won them all.

—

Seven days later, Roy got a call from Tim Marcoh.

“This is Roy.”

“Roy!  This is Marcoh.  Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, doctor.”  Though his voice was smooth, he couldn’t completely suppress the trepidation in his stomach.

“I wanted to talk to you about Ed.”

“Of course.”

Marcoh paused for a moment, which only made the worry stronger, then continued.

“I’ve seen the visitor’s log.  You’ve been coming every day?”

Roy hesitated, mind already in a flurry to figure out what might be the problem before he answered.  “Yes.  He about had a panic attack when he thought he wouldn’t see me while he was in rehab.”

On the other end of the line, Marcoh sighed.  “Yes, well, it’s actually just that, the issue I wanted to speak with you about.  I think it might be better to limit your visits from now on.  In a week, perhaps, and then maybe once or twice a week from there.”

The words seemed to fly out of the phone and careen into his face.  Not see Ed?  For a _week?_  How was he going to—how was _Ed_ going to manage without him—

Roy struggled with his words for a moment before finally getting out, “May I ask why?”

“In his therapy sessions, I’ve noticed that he has quite an intense fixation on you.  while I understand how that has happened and that neither of you are at fault, I do think that such a level of dependence is unhealthy and provides a distraction from his recovery.”

“I… I see.”  And Roy did, sort of.  But mostly he didn’t.  “I’ll have to tell him that I’ll be cutting back my visits.  He’ll never trust me if I don’t show up without giving him a reason.”

“I’ve spoken with him about the issue already.”

“And what did he have to say about it?”

“He… was understandably displeased, but I believe he understood.”

Roy swallowed, trying to gather his thoughts and his words.  “But he did understand.”  He swallowed, thinking about what that “displeased” might have meant.  Even though not seeing Ed so frequently would be hard on Roy, he couldn’t imagine how bad hearing it must have been for Ed.

“Yes, I believe so.  Please understand that I do this only out of concern for him.”

Roy swallowed.  “I understand.  I certainly wouldn’t want to… to curtail his potential by forcing him to stay close to me.”  Another, even nastier thought had begun to worm its way into Roy’s head.  Some dependence was probably normal, but he hadn’t given Ed any chances to be himself, alone, without Roy there influencing his decisions.

Did Ed _really_ love him?  Or was Roy just all he had?

But Marcoh continued, oblivious to Roy’s internal turmoil.  “That isn’t the issue.  While I do think that it is important to continue to see each other, in moderation, my concern is that unless he deals with his extreme attachment to you in a controlled setting, an unexpected or lengthy separation from you could end up triggering a relapse.  This could be as close as spending time away from you while you’re at work, but in a distant situation, such as if he’s away from school, it could be disastrous.”

“I understand.”  Roy stayed quiet for a few more moments.  Ed had opened up to Marcoh about wanting to go to school, at least, which meant that Marcoh was listening, and Ed trusted him.  “His dependency, do you think he considers me a stand-in for the drugs?”

“I don’t think that sort of equivalency is accurate, really.  But that exact sort of situation is what I’m trying to prevent.”

“I see.”  Roy swallowed.  “What days do you suggest I visit?”

“In a week, then once or twice weekly after that.  Christmas, of course.”

“Of course.  I am allowed to bring gifts?”

“Yes, provided they follow our usual rules.”

“Understood, doctor.  Thank you for letting me know.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up, and Roy set his phone down carefully, staring numbly at his wall.

It took two minutes of knocking for Roy to realize that Maes was standing in the doorway to his office, and even then, his words just seemed to rush over Roy like incomprehensible waves.  Roy had to blink, shake his head, and ask Maes to repeat himself.

“Just picked up some guy named Riley Gress dealing on a street corner.  Was hoping you’d know the name.  Is he part of this massive bust or just your garden variety mook?”

Roy narrowed his eyes.  “Book him.  I’ve got evidence that’ll put him away for dealing at school yards, too.”

“Good deal.”  Maes tucked the folder in his hand under his shoulder, then stepped forward, yet another folder in his hand.  “You were serious about finding a new line of work when you got back from vacation?”

Roy nodded.  “I need something that will keep me home more consistently.  And I’m _tired_ of pretending to be someone else.”

“Good.”  Maes tossed the folder onto Roy’s desk with a sharp crack.  Roy glanced down.  “I’ve found you your new assignment.”


	26. Chapter 26

Comparatively, Ed guessed that therapy with Marcoh went pretty well.

He had opened up, at least, about a _lot_ of things, from his early life and mom and asshole dad to the present, even giving him an idea of what Kimblee had done to him.  Marcoh not only didn’t judge in the slightest, but even talked him through it at times, grounded him with scientific facts about the effects that could have had on Ed’s psychology, connecting his behavior—including his drug use—with incidents that related to his helplessness, or abuse, or any fucking number of things Ed had gone through that caused his life to suck more.  Not that Marcoh _used_ those words specifically, but it helped, truly, just seeing the basis for those behaviors instead of just being stuck with them.  It was all science.  Once he knew how to find them, he could stop them, and Marcoh seemed very encouraged at his progress.

But not being able to see Roy fucking _sucked._

He had braved several sessions in all, and a few since the restriction on Roy—which meant that he had only seen Roy once since then.  And Marcoh still wanted to _talk_ about that, about how not having Roy made him feel, and no, “fucking sucks” wasn’t adequate for this guy.  Ugh.

They covered other things, too, such as Ed’s reluctance to talk in group and the reasons behind that—again, not judgmental, which made it harder in a way.  He _wished_ that he could be angry at Marcoh, for digging up shit he would really like to keep buried, but he was just so…

So _understanding._  And he didn’t focus and drag on about what was wrong, or what had gone wrong, just addressed it enough so they could get to fixing it.  And whenever Ed started to think they had dwelled enough, Marcoh brought up this or that point that settled him back down again.

But why the fuck did he have to be _right_ all the time?

The one thing he couldn’t solve, at least, immediately, seemed to be the one that affected Ed’s stay in the facility the most.

“They’re your nightmares.  What do you think might help with them?”

“Besides having Roy back?” Ed muttered, but sighed at Marcoh’s raised eyebrow.  “I don’t.  Really.  It’s ‘cause I’m sleeping alone, I know that, ‘cause they never happened before that.”

“Then it is something we have to work on, if you do want to regain some of your independence,” Marcoh reminded him gently.  “The other alternative is to be stuck with Roy forever, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ed grumbled, flopping back in the chair.  “But now that we know what causes it, how do we stop it?”

“It’s not always so straightforward, Ed.”  Marcoh sighed, tapping his glasses to the corner of his mouth.  “It seems that your mind has grown to associate nights without Roy as being unpleasant ones—understandably so—and without your drugs to fall back on, your mind is in distress.  It could be that we just have to… wean you off of it, so to speak.”

Ed sat, processing this.  “So just… deal with it until it gets better?”  When Marcoh nodded, Ed grimaced.  “Oh, my roommate’s gonna be _thrilled._ ”  Though they had barely exchanged five words since Ed’s admission, Ed had been on the receiving end of many a glare in the mornings.

Marcoh sighed.  “I have considered prescribing some sleeping aids, to help with the process, but with caution, because they can be habit-forming—”

“No,” Ed said, immediate and forceful.  “Nothing habit-forming.  It could set me back, and no way in hell am I gonna risk that.”

Marcoh nodded.  “In that case, with your permission, I’d like to try melatonin supplements.  Those are natural, and not directly used for this purpose, but in no way habit-forming.  Is that all right?  Also, Rose drinks chamomile tea in the evening.  You might try joining her, too.”

Ed wasn’t super familiar with melatonin, but it sounded familiar enough that he nodded.  “Yeah.  Fingers crossed that’ll do somethin’.”

—

It didn’t.  Despite the fact that Marcoh told him it should start working immediately, once he started taking in thirty minutes before lights out, he still woke up, screaming, every night without fail.  Though he had overcome the exhaustion from the meth withdrawal weeks ago, the exhaustion from not managing a full night’s sleep quickly negated any good that did—and left him cranky, to boot.

Also susceptible to bad ideas.  At least, that’s what he blamed on the fact that he actually talked in group therapy a few days later.

Ed had been half-listening, half-dreaming of his bed (and Roy in it) when he heard his name.

“You’ve got some experience with that, right, Ed?”

Ed glanced up to see Ling—and the rest of the group—watching him expectantly.

“Sorry, what?”

Ling smiled faintly at him.  “You’ve got experience with those drugs, right?”

“I—oh, yeah.”  Ed swallowed, glancing around.  He hadn’t had this many eyes fixed on him since… well, he had been high for a reason, and that was because he didn’t want to remember it.  “Meth was more my poison, but my pimp got me on occasional crack.”

The man leading the group nodded.  “Would you like to tell us more about that experience?”

Ed glanced around—glaring at Ling for a moment—vaguely panicked, but mostly uncertain.  “Like, uh, what sort of thing?”

“Whatever you’d like.  We’re here to listen to you.”

“Well, would be nice to have a starting point,” Ed said a little wryly.

“We were talking about the drug cravings.”

“Well, yeah, but like… I get them.  It sucks.”  He could feel his panic beginning to morph into petrification; he wasn’t sure what else the guy wanted him to say!  He wasn’t trying to be difficult, but fuck if he knew how to talk to people.  This shit, it all left him at a loss.

“How do you deal with them?”

Ed wrapped his arms around himself, wincing at the twinge of pain from his shoulder.  “I guess I keep saying to myself that I’ll get stuck back there again, if I go through with it, and I’d rather die than do that.”  He smiled crookedly.  “Also, my boyfriend is real good at making sure I don’t slip.”

Ed zoned out a little as the man continued to talk, stuff about better to be without than to be where you were, or something like that, then turned back to Ed.  “Do you think it’s that relationship that helps keep you out of it?”

“With him?  Yeah, I’d probably be dead right now if it weren’t for him.  Or, well.”  Ed swallowed, glancing around, discomfort beginning to set in, then cleared his throat.  “He’s actually the one who got me out.  Carried, if you wanna be specific,” he finished wryly.

“Would you like to tell us about that?”  The man looked so helpful and pleased that Ed had finally began to speak up, to say nothing of _Rose’s_ grin, that Ed hesitated, but spoke again.

“Which part?”

“Whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”

“I sincerely doubt you all wanna hear the play by play of us getting together.”

“No, but stories of how you left, those are usually good starting points for recovery.  To remind yourself of why you left that situation.”

Ed laughed a little disbelievingly.  “Well, when I left I actually thought I was dating a drug dealer.  Kinda ironic there.”  At the confused expressions when he glanced around, he sighed, continuing.  “Okay.  I… well, my… my pimp got me into drugs.  To keep me working, and keep me from leaving.  So I was mostly high when I was, and sometimes if dealers hired you they’d give you a hit, right?  So I tended to single them out.  I met him, got into a… working relationship, which turned into more.”  He cleared his throat, flushing a little when he thought about everything they had been through.  “I got in a…”  He cringed.  “One night, my pimp made me—I took too much, and when I came to a few days later…”

The utter quiet of the room left him anxious; it and the combination of Ling’s encouraging nod kept him rambling on.

“There was this… this video, of me, and I was out, and these guys, and they were…”  He closed his eyes, swallowing around the urge to vomit.  “They had taped themselves, with me.  No condoms, either.  And they were watching it, and… and _laughing_ , and cheering each other on, and I kinda—I snapped, and attacked Kimblee.  My pimp.  They grabbed me, and god, they beat the shit out of me.”  Ed rubbed his face, wincing; he still hurt from some of that.  “And somewhere between seeing that and being sober as I tried to fight back, I swore that if I got out alive, I’d never—I’d find some way…”  He took a deep breath, pausing for a moment.

“You said your boyfriend helped you?” the man said, quiet and respectful.

Ed nodded shakily, keenly aware that this was the first time he had talked about this with anyone but Marcoh.  “I’d called him after I attacked Kimblee, locked myself in the room before they broke it down.”  Ed laughed desperately.  “I wouldn’t’ve even had the phone if he hadn’t bought it for me.  He showed up and tricked them into letting me go.  Took me home, cleaned me up, told me he wanted me off.  Weird, right?  Because he was a dealer?”  Ed shook his head, lips twisting wryly.  “A little after that I find out he’s actually an undercover cop.  That was fun.”

“And he kept you out of it?  Do you think about disappointing him, if you start up again?”

“He’s the one who signed me up for here.  And fuck yeah, I do.”

“What kind of deterrent effect does that have for you?”

“Well, it deters.  I mean, I don’t want him to see me like I was before.”

“Would you say that’s one of the primary factors in your recovery?”  When Ed nodded, the man continued.  “What would happen if you two broke up?”

Ed went very still, staring at the man warily.  “Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Just wondering if it would impact your recovery.”

“It would impact my _life!_ ” Ed snapped, starting to feel sick at the very thought.  “Of course it would impact my recovery.”

“Do you think you would be able to continue on without him?”

Ed scowled.  “I wouldn’t really have a choice, would I?”

“So you’d consider him integral, but not necessary.”

“Damn straight I would.”

The man just smiled.  “Then I think that’s a good sign for your recovery.”

“Oh.”  Ed blinked, surprised, then looked down at his hands.  He couldn’t really put his finger on why, but for some reason, he felt a lot better than he had in quite some time.

—

When group ended, Ed slunk out—or tried.  For some reason, he got more smiles and waves than usual, and he did his best to return them, albeit uncertainly.  Why the hell did these people want to even look him in the eye after he had shared _that?_

So distracted was he with this odd support that he didn’t notice Ling until he clapped Ed on the shoulder, sending him leaping into the air.

When he whirled, seeing Ling’s pleased expression, Ed watched him warily.  Was _he_ going to ditch Ed?

“Good talk.  Wanna go spar?”

Ed blinked at him, trying to process—what?  “What?”

“Spar, you know.  Where I’ve been teaching you to save your own hide?”

“I… well, yeah…”  Ed frowned slightly, watching him, confused.  Was that it?  Moving on?

“Then let’s go.  We’ve got a couple of hours to kill before dinner.”

As Ling dragged him off, Ed followed, not protesting, but still very confused.  “You’re not—you still wanna talk to me?”

Ling turned back, frowning.  “What kind of stupid question is that?  Of course I do.”

“Even after… all that shit?”

“Well, yeah.”  Ling tilted his head, nearly running into someone before veering out of the way.  “Why would that change my opinion?”

“I just… I figured…”  When they reached the exercise room, Ed looked away, scowling.  “Never mind.”

“What did you think?”  Ling turned, crossing his arms with a smirk.  Ed immediately bristled.

“What’s that expression for!” Ed snapped, recoiling backwards, wondering if that’s what this was, some kind of joke—

“What expression?  I just smiled!”

“You were smirking at me!”

Ling laughed.  “Just at how tense you are.  You get like it sometimes, and I don’t get it.  I didn’t mean anything by it.  C’mon.”

Ed slinked along, following Ling, who started their lessons.  Ed spotted Rose, too, who had also been there, and she smiled and waved, just like always.

Still, even though he went along with the training, Ed kept mostly quiet, flinching more than he should have, waiting for the bomb to drop.  But they barely seemed as if they remembered it, besides Rose heading over to squeeze his hand when they took a water break.

“You’re not alone in this.”

Ed nodded, looking down.  Maybe not, but it didn’t help that every time he thought about it, he felt fucking worthless, even if they didn’t seem to think so.

“Does Roy love you any less for this?”  When Ed jerked his head up, surprised, she stared back at him with her chin raised determinedly.  “Don’t discredit us by thinking that we do, either.”

“Right.”  At that, he had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

“You’re always safe here, Ed.”

Ed snorted, the words from group coming back.  “Until I can’t afford it anymore, right?”

“Marcoh will work something out with you if you need it.  He did with me.”

“Yeah, if Roy dumps me.”  Ed looked away.  “He seemed pretty convinced that he would.”

“He just wanted to make sure that you weren’t putting all your eggs in one basket.”

“Well I am, aren’t I?”  Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Marcoh’s concern about his reliance on Roy… it began to make sense.

“Are you?”  She tilted her head.

“Well, yeah.  He’s paying for my school, and Al’s, and rehab, and a place to live…”

“He must be loaded, for a cop.”

Ed glanced up at her, a little surprised (and relieved, maybe?) that she didn’t seem to see it as a problem.  “Yeah, he is.”

Rose smiled.  “You got a good guy, Ed.”

Ed felt himself smiling back.  “I really do.”

“I’m happy for you two.  What a story.”

Ed snorted.  “Yeah, well, kinda wish we had just met in a bar or something.”

“I doubt your relationship would have been as deep, though.”

“Still, wouldn’t have had to go through so much shit.”

“Yeah, well.”  Ed shrugged, a little embarrassed at how much Rose was beaming at him.  Shit, she really must like them together.  What was it with her and Ling?

Still, the pleased, sappy look on her face made him feel like he had something good.

—

That night, for some reason, was particularly bad, to this point where his roommate had to shake him awake.  Twice.

He didn’t even have the energy to enjoy his breakfast, just picked at it listlessly…

“Ed?” Rose asked quietly, and he glanced up, knowing he probably looked like hell.  “What’s with the screaming?”

Ed went very still, his throat tightening.  Of course—her room was right across from Ed’s.  Of course she had heard.  He wrapped his arms around himself.  “I just—bad dreams, is all.”

“Like what?” Ling asked around a mouthful of two pieces of bread.

Ed glared.  “After I blabbed in group I figured you could guess.”

“Anything in particular, though?”

He bristled.  “Being helpless again as I get held down and raped.  He used to roofie me, you know, and I thought I was _lucky_ for not being able to remember it.”  At the horrified expression on Rose’s face, he stabbed a sausage.  “Only in the dreams, I’m awake.  Just can’t move.  Being back with Kimblee.”  Ed stared at him.  “The usual.”

Ling swallowed, face expressionless.  “You can get sleep stuff from Marcoh, if you tell him.”

“He already offered.  No drugs,” he said firmly.  “And the melatonin didn’t work.”  At Ling’s snort, Ed eyed him.  “What?”

“Just, melatonin doesn’t really work like that.  It’s only for sleep cycles.  Must’ve been an attempt at the placebo effect.”

Ed grimaced.  A few weeks ago he might have been angry at the idea, but now, he wished that it had worked.  “Well, that sucks.”

“What do you think would help?” Rose piped up.

“I don’t—I don’t fuckin’ know.”  Ed sighed, rubbing at his eyes.  “I miss Roy a hell of a lot.  Like, this wasn’t a problem when we were together.  It’s the sleeping alone shit.  It sucks.  And is fuckin’ ironic.”

“So, sleeping with people helps?” she asked, too quickly to have considered her words.

Rose was already wincing by the time Ed barked out, “No!”

“I meant platonically.  I’m sorry, Ed.”

“Oh.”  Ed swallowed.  “I mean, I guess.  But unless one of you wants to volunteer as roommate.”

“I can.”  Ling had paused with a waffle midway to his mouth, watching Ed.

Ed snorted.  “What, you wanna be woken up by a headcase ten times a night?”

“If it’ll help the headcase.”

Ed watched him for a few moments, chewing on his own waffle.  Despite their rocky beginning… this was Ling.  And learning to trust people again was an important part of his therapy, right?

“You… you really mean that?” Ed asked, a little skeptical of Ling’s seriousness, but he shrugged.

“I hate my roommate anyway.”

“That’s because your first week here, you hoarded so much food that they had to call an _exterminator_ for the ants,” Rose sighed.

“Yeah, still!  I apologized!”  Ling turned back to Ed, grinning.  “So?  Can I move in with you?”

Ed rolled his eyes.  “Hey, if you can get permission.”  He felt ridiculous even considering this.  Was it weird?  Probably.  Would Marcoh even allow it?

“I can try.  I’ll talk to Scar.  You know how much he loooves me.”

“Great,” Ed muttered.  “Our plan is doomed from the start.”

—

Ling had moved in by the end of the day.

Ed didn’t know what magic or bribery he had wrought, but he suspected that it had something to do with the fact that Ed’s roommate might have decided to commit murder if he had to spend one more night there.

He helped Ling set up with mixed feelings, trying not to hope _too_ much, but a little excited that they were trying something, at least.  In a final act of triumph, Ling shoved Ed’s bed through the gap in the divider, lifting it easily, and pushing it against his own to make one big bed.

“Tah dah!” Ling declared, proudly surveying his handiwork.  “We can make the other one a hangout spot, and this one can be our bedroom.”

“Great,” Ed muttered, but he turned his head away from Ling to hide his smile.  Ling promptly flopped down onto his side of the bed, and Ed sat on his.

Though Ling miraculously managed to _not_ be unbearable after lights out, or even until, Ed still woke screaming, right on schedule.

“Hey, calm down, Ed, it’s okay.”

Ed heard the noise, saw the form, and sat bolt upright, scrambling backwards and nearly falling off the bed.  Someone caught him, and for a moment he nearly screamed again—

“It’s Ling.  New roommate.  Ed?”

Ed gaped at him, shaking, and then everything clicked back into place.  The dreams.  The plan.  Ed slumped, burying his face in his trembling hands.  “It didn’t fucking work.”

“Hey, hey.”  Ling reached out, pulling Ed into a hug.  “I’m sorry.  We can keep trying.”

Ed buried his face into Ling’s chest.  God, he missed Roy.  “I just want it to fuckin’ stop,” he croaked hoarsely.

“I’m sorry.  I wish I could help.”  Ling’s arms tightened around him, and for a moment, Ed sat in surprised as he realized where they were.  What they were doing.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a friend—Roy, much as Ed loved him, was not the same—who he could _trust_ like this.  Who supported him like this.  Who Ed could sleep next to without worrying.

He closed his eyes, staying there as Ling tugged him back down, still holding him.  His muscles eventually relaxed, telling Ed that Ling had fallen asleep, and Ed scooted a little closer, wondering how he was ever going to be able to fall asleep…

…And then opened his eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the windows, renewed and refreshed.

He sat up slowly, glancing around, and spotted a sleepy Ling, one eye cracked, looking up at him.

“How you feeling?”

“Better,” Ed croaked, clearing his throat.  He did have a couple of brief memories of jerking awake, some time in the night, but they were fuzzy, and he had been able to fall right back asleep.  Ling hadn’t so much as woken up.

“So you did want me in your bed,” Ling drawled, winking, and Ed reached out to shove at him.  “We might have to change the beds back for inspection, though.”

Ed hesitated, frowning slightly.  “Why, will we get in trouble if they see?”

“Maybe.  Considering your history.”

Ed froze, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe for a moment.  “You mean they don’t want me slutting up the place,” he snapped bitterly.

“No,” Ling replied cheerfully.  “They just worry with you guys that old habits die harder than usual.”

Ed fixed him with the old stink-eye.  “So they don’t want me slutting up the place.”

Ling propped himself up on his elbow, waggling his hand in a ‘sorta’ kind of motion.  “They also don’t want us taking advantage.  You could talk to Marcoh, though.  See if he’ll allow it.”

Ed glanced around the half of the room, then back at Ling.  He thought back to that night, the best he had slept since coming here, then nodded, hopping out of the bed.

“Let’s do it.”

Ling waggled his eyebrows at him.  “Why, Ed, I would rephrase.”

One benefit, Ed soon learned, to this arrangement, was that it would be much easier to give Ling the elbows he deserved before breakfast.


	27. Chapter 27

A week after beginning to share his evenings with Ling, a week after his sleep began to improve at an encouraging rate, Ed received a notification that he had a visitor.

He glanced at Ling and Rose over his cards, confused, and they just shrugged.  Marcoh had cut down Roy’s visits even further, and Ed wasn’t due one for another week.  He set his hand down, following the attendant to the visitor’s room…

To see Roy, sitting on the couch, staring at his hands.

Ed’s universe, already fractured and broken in so many ways, seemed to jolt back into perfection for just a moment, as if he had just witnessed something supernatural, something holy and awe-inspiring.

He let out a yelp of glee, sprinting forward and tackling Roy, who made an alarmed “Oof!” noise.

When Ed pulled back to make sure he was all right, however, Roy’s face split into a grin, and he pulled Ed in for a hug, holding him tightly.

“I missed you so much, Ed,” he whispered into Ed’s ear.  He said it as if he were saying a prayer, a hymn, reverent words of worship to a deity.

“Fuck, Roy,” Ed gasped, burying his face in Roy’s chest, and they stayed that way for a very long time.

“You’ve gained weight,” Roy murmured, nuzzling into Ed’s ear.  “It surprised me.  It’s wonderful to see.”

“Twelve pounds since being admitted!” Ed declared with pride, pulling back to kiss Roy, then nuzzling at his neck and shoulders and chest.  “That’s two more than I was before I got sick.  So what’s up?”

Roy ran his hand up Ed’s back.  “Scar called me earlier today and said that he’d have someone go get you if I came by this afternoon.  Since you’ve been doing so well.”  He tugged Ed closer.  “I missed you.”

“I know,” Ed grumbled.  “It was awful.”

“How are you doing?  God, I haven’t heard anything.”

“I’m doing…”  Ed sighed.  Not cured.  “Okay.  He thinks I’ve made progress.  Better.  Even the nightmares, a little.”

Roy squeezed a little.  “That’s amazing.  Do you think you’ll be out by Christmas next week?”

Ed grimaced, squinting up at Roy.  “Thirty days minimum, remember?”

“You are right about that.”  He kissed Ed’s temple.  “We’ll do Christmas when you’re out, then.  I’ll save all your presents and leave the tree up.  Though, I should probably get the tree up, first.”

Ed rested his chin on Roy’s shoulder.  “You think he’ll let me go, just for that day?”

“I’ll ask.  Maybe he’ll release you into the custody of a cop for a day,” he chuckled.  “How are the nightmares?”

“Better!  Ever since Ling started sleeping with me, they haven’t woken me up as much.”

Roy pulled back, watching Ed, looking confused and hurt.  “I’m sorry?”

Ed matched his confusion, then his eyes widened.  Fuck!  “No!  Not like—sorry, I just meant—we pushed our beds together, because it’s the sleeping alone thing that’s hard, and I’ve talked to Marcoh about it, and he says that it’ll help get me used to sleeping without you, and then alone…?”  He finished the sentence weakly, watching Roy intently for any sign of anger.

Roy swallowed, and though he didn’t seem angry, he did seem anxious.  “You sure he’s not bothering you?”

“Positive.”  Ed started to hunch his shoulders unconsciously.  “Are you angry at me?”

“No, Angel,” Roy breathed, reaching out to run his fingers through Ed’s ponytail.  “Not at all.  I’m glad you’ve found friends.”  He kissed Ed’s forehead, and Ed believed it.  “I was just surprised with that phrasing.”

“It’s his fault,” Ed said miserably.  “Everything he breathes on turns into an innuendo.”

“So he breathes on you?”  Roy smirked.  “Should I be jealous?”

“Seriously.  He’s all germy.”  Ed wrinkled his nose.

“Hey, I’m not that germy!”

Ed turned, nose still wrinkled, as Ling and Rose walked in.  “You’re pretty germy.”

Roy shifted to wave.  “Hi, Rose.  Hi, Ling.  I heard you’re sleeping with my boyfriend.”  Despite the joking tone, he tugged Ed in a little closer, holding him tighter.  Ed leaned up to kiss Roy’s jaw.

Ling snorted.  “Honestly, it was more for my sanity.  You should get him a dog for the nights you’re not there.  He could wake up the block.”

“Oh, what a sacrifice I’m sure it is,” Ed drawled.

Ling just shrugged.  “I don’t notice.  I sleep pretty heavily.”

“Like a fuckin’ log.”

Roy leaned in to kiss Ed’s cheek.  “We can get a dog, if you want.”

Ed stared up at him disbelievingly.  “Are you kidding?  I already have enough to put up with looking after him.”

Roy laughed softly, then extricated himself from Ed’s grip.  “I’m going to go ask Marcoh that question, from earlier.  All right, love?”

Ed flopped down on the couch, sighing melodramatically.  “Fiiiine.  Leave me here to die.”

Roy turned to Rose, pointing at her, then Ling.  “Make sure he behaves.”

But as Roy turned to walk off, Ling pouting behind him, Ed allowed himself to grin.

—

Christmas morning, Ed paced around his room as the sun came up.

“Go back to beddddd,” Ling groaned, voice muffled from the pillow he had stuffed over his face.  “God, you don’t even know when he’s gonna be here.”

“Don’t make me dump your mattress over,” Ed growled, but he was too distracted to put any heat into it.

But the knock on his door eventually came.

He beckoned Ling and Rose along—he hadn’t missed their brief looks of hunger when he had told them of Roy’s plan; neither of them had anyone visiting—and walked to the visitor’s room as quickly as humanly possible.

Roy, arms full of wrapped presents, stood beaming in the crowded room.

Ed darted forward for a kiss, but when he tried for more, Roy pulled away.  “I’ll drop them, you know.  I’ve gotten permission from Marcoh to head back to your dorm rooms; would you two like to come along?”

Roy led a procession of eager twenty-somethings back to Ed’s room, taking a glance at the empty area where Ed’s room had once been and the makeshift couch cobbled together from chairs and pillows and shaking his head.  At the indignant glare from Ed and Ling, however, he sat obediently, then began to dole out presents.

Ling and Rose’s expressions when every single one went to them… that might have been the first time since starting the drugs that Ed looked at something and thought, _this is so much better than them._

Rose opened hers first: a nice set of cookbooks in preparation for her culinary degree and a camera that looked pretty fancy.  Ling, upon tearing into his, found a porn DVD (Ed spotted the cover; it involved a foursome, it looked like), a box of Kleenex, a _truly_ alarming dildo, and four tickets to a Broadway play coming through town in a few months.  The card read, “Do  NOT use around Ed!!!!”

“Incentive to get sober,” Roy drawled, and Ling smirked in response as Rose covered her face, cheeks flushing.

“Which one?”  He held up the DVD and winked suggestively, and Ed reached over, plucked the dildo out of its box, and smacked Ling across the head with it.

Roy didn’t have anything for Ed, which Ed was fine with.  He had a long, deep kiss for Roy, which Roy eagerly returned, to the delight of their audience.

“Ready to go?” Roy breathed, panting for air, when they finally pulled away.

“ _Beyond_ ready,” Ed huffed, tugging him out of the room.

Rose and Ling followed to see them off, and as they made to leave, Ed felt a pang of regret that he had to leave them behind…

“Ling?”

They all turned at the word, Ling last of them all, his eyes widening, his posture tenser than Ed had ever seen it.

A young woman about their age stood there, black hair pulled up in a bun, dark, pretty, wide eyes anxious and hesitant.  She watched only Ling, but didn’t move towards him.

“Lan Fan?” Ling whispered, hopeful but disbelieving, like he was hallucinating or dreaming and didn’t want to be woken up.

She swallowed and stepped forward, just as hopeful as Ling, and Ed wanted to reach out and shove them _together_ , dammit!  “I… I know you said not to visit, not until you were better, but it’s been so long, and I—“

She barely had time for a gasp before Ling darted forward, swept her up into his arms, and crashed their lips together, holding her tightly.  She moaned softly, running her fingers up through his hair, and Ed, Roy, and Rose exchanged grins.

“You two can go,” Rose told them cheerfully.  “They’ll be busy for a while, and I got news that my sister might be able to make it after all!  Have fun!”

With a delighted laugh, Ed took Roy’s hand and tugged him towards the exit.

—

Ed did not expect the fresh scent of pine tree when he stepped into Roy’s house.  He _also_ did not expect, when he stepped into the living room, a Christmas tree with colored, flashing lights, or for Roy to step towards the fireplace and do something that they probably taught him in cop school which sent the flames roaring up within moments.

Most of all, however, he did not expect the piles of presents underneath the tree.

“What—what’s this?” he choked out, staring at Roy in shock.  Was Maes coming over?  Was Roy hosting the department for a party?  Fuck, he had wanted to spend this time _alone_ with Roy—

“They’re your presents, Angel,” Roy chuckled gently, watching him with the sappiest expression Ed had ever seen in his fucking _life._

Ed stared at them, then at Roy, then at the presents again.  He opened his mouth to speak, but something seemed to be in the way of his throat, and for a moment, he could only make a small choking noise.

“I… I didn’t get you anything,” he finally croaked, anxiety creeping in, that Roy would think he was ungrateful.  “And you’re already—you’ve given me so much, with clothes, and Al, and rehab, and—“

But Roy just pulled him in and kissed him, gentle and comforting.  “It’s fine.  I wasn’t expecting anything; I know you haven’t had the chance.  And I just wanted to make you happy.”

Ed stayed there, in Roy’s arms, for a while before Roy nudged him towards the tree.  “Go on!  Open them!”

Ed slunk forward, kneeling cautiously in front of the tree.

Clothes, piles of them, many ordered online from sites Ed had browsed when borrowing Roy’s computer, in blacks and reds and golds and with skulls and gorgeous patterned designs, with boots to match.  A giant fuzzy blanket, which Ed promptly wrapped himself in.

When he opened the small package containing the smartphone, the lump in his throat won, tears streaming down his face.  Roy—how could Roy do so much for him, give so much, and not expect anything in return?  With a small hiccup, he tugged open the paper on his fourth gift, the first in a set of science books the likes of which Ed had never _dreamed_ owning.

When the last paper revealed a laptop box, Ed covered his face with his hands and sobbed.  How had he gotten this lucky?  How had his life turned around into _this?_

“Hey, hey, shhh,” Roy murmured, pulling Ed into his lap, blanket and all.  Ed only managed to blubber ‘thank you’s for a bit before finally going quiet.  Roy kissed his temple.  “Do you want to help me make lunch?”

With a sniffle, Ed nodded.

After a delicious and fattening lunch, they curled up on the couch, Roy scrolling through Netflix before putting on a delightfully sappy movie.  Ed had his laptop propped open for a little bit of it: he finally found a translation for that damn elvish.   _Auta i lome.  Aure Entuluva._  The night is passing.  Day shall come again.

Fucking nerd.  Ed was delighted.

Movies, of course, eventually transitioned into kisses: long, slow makeouts, with soft moaning and gentle nuzzling.  Ed eventually shifted, crawling up to straddle Roy, and Roy put his hands gently on Ed’s waist, squeezing a little.

“God, I missed you,” Ed moaned against Roy’s mouth, leaning in to press against him harder.

“I missed you too,” Roy rumbled, mouthing at Ed’s ear.  “I considered breaking down the door to see you, at one point.”

The thought of Roy crashing in to rescue him, the knowledge that Roy had missed him _that much_ , left little fluttering sensations in Ed’s chest. “Should’ve.  Ridden off into the sunset with me.”

“I’m a cop, and I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

Ed drew back with a huff.  “Why?  I’m leaving willingly!”

“The breaking down the door part is my concern.”

Ed rolled his eyes, leaning down again.  “What’s the point of being a cop if you can’t get away with shit?”

Roy tilted his head back, away from Ed, raising an eyebrow at him.  “To keep the peace?”

“Not when I get home, the things I’m gonna do with you.  Besides, car chases and explosions.”

Ed felt Roy tense underneath him, and his eyes slid away.  “No thanks.  That’s not my cup of tea.”

“No, just deep cover and super dangerous crime lord busts.”

“I don’t like explosions,” Roy said, a little brittle.

“Oh.”  Ed swallowed, watching Roy carefully.  “Okay.  Sorry.”  He leaned in to kiss Roy again hesitantly.

Roy kissed back, then turned away.  “Did… it reminds me of Afghanistan.”

Ed jerked back, staring at Roy.   _Afghanistan._  Ed hadn’t even—hadn’t even considered that it might be a contributing factor.  It suddenly hit home, how little he knew about Roy.  “Wait, what?”

Roy took a deep breath.  “Explosions.  I don’t like them.  I’ve dealt with too many IEDs to want anything to do with them.”

“You were in the army, yeah?”  Ed swallowed, still trying to reconcile the knowledge as something other than a footnote, a background detail.  A month ago, Ed had thought Roy was some drug dealer who probably hadn’t even been out of the state, let alone out of the country.  Even after finding out the truth, it seemed that was only the beginning.

Roy nodded.  “It paid for school.”

“Right.  You mentioned that.  I just didn’t know that, y’know, you fought and stuff.”  He knew that his face had drawn into a stricken expression, but he couldn’t seem to control it, not after… after this.

“I don’t exactly proclaim it.”  Roy shrugged, and Ed wondered how he could be so _casual_ about it.  “I have a pair of noise cancelling headphones for the Fourth of July.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you,” Ed murmured, watching him carefully.

“We haven’t had a lot of time, love.  You less than me.”

“We’ve had enough.”  He could hear the sharp tone in his voice, but he was _peeved._  Not at Roy, but at himself.  After everything Roy had done for him, he couldn’t even be bothered to learn the simplest things?

“It’s not a big deal.  I’ll let you know if something bothers me.”  Roy reached up to brush hair out of Ed’s eyes.

“But I want to know more about you!”

“We can talk about it later, if you want.  You still need to recover.  We have all the time in the world once you’re out of rehab.”

Ed shook his head, frustrated.  “But I want to talk about you!  I mean, unless you wanna bang instead.”  He watched Roy; Ed didn’t mind either option, but he did want Roy happy.

“Well, what do you want to know?”  Roy settled his hands on Ed’s waist.  “I’m fine with whatever you choose.”  Ed sighed, leaning in to kiss on Roy some more, and Roy chuckled against Ed’s mouth.  “So no talking?”

“I guess.”  Ed licked into Roy’s mouth, moaning.  “God, it’s been forever since we’ve fucked.”

Roy returned the kisses, gentle and careful, tucking another strand of hair behind Ed’s ear.  “Are you feeling up for it?”

“I feel like I could take on the fuckin’ world,” Ed growled, a thrill running through him, a new, crazy idea beginning to form.  Roy just laughed.

“Then I’ll follow your lead.”

Ed leaned in, kissing him deeply, then pulled back, watching him breathlessly.  “You wanna ride me?”

Roy blinked up at him, startled, leaving just enough time for Ed to get nervous before nodding.  “Certainly.”

Still, Ed pulled back, wary.  “What?”

“I’m just surprised, is all.  We’ve never done that before.”  Roy leaned in to kiss him, the sincerity behind it wiping away Ed’s doubt as quickly as it had come.  “I’m glad you’re feeling better.  I have condoms upstairs; would you like to move this to a bed?”

Ed snorted, but he was smirking.  “Condoms?  Not so surprised, then.”

“I bought them a while ago!” Roy protested.  “Before we even—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed sighed loftily, but he smirked down at Roy, letting him know he was teasing.

Roy scooped Ed up, pulling him close, taking him upstairs.  He wrapped his arms around Roy’s neck, kissing on his neck, wondering if he could distract Roy enough to do something silly…

But no, he just sat them both on the bed, kissing him forever.

Ed lost himself in it, barely thinking about their original purpose here, tugging Roy closer, pressing up against him.  Roy groaned, cradling Ed’s head as he kissed him back, eventually lifting a leg and sliding it over Ed’s waist before finally straddling him.  He kept kissing, sliding his hands up Ed’s ribs, rocking his hips forward slightly, grinding down against Ed’s crotch.

Ed pulled back, gasping, staring up at him.  “Wow.”

Roy tilted his head, stupid gorgeous hair falling into his eyes as he smiled indulgently.  “Wow?”

“Just, new view.”  Ed smirked, then arched his hips up, rubbing his hardening cock demandingly against Roy’s ass.

“I think I enjoy it.”

“Same.”  Ed bared his teeth in a grin.

Roy leaned down to kiss Ed again, leaning over to grab the condoms and the lube from the bedside drawer.  Ed took a moment to shamelessly ogle the strip of Roy’s stomach that peeked out from above his shirt as he stretched, but didn’t even have to do that for long, because Roy reached down and tugged his shirt up over his head.  After another kiss, he began to undo his pants.

Ed wiggled back, eyes wide, still arching his hips up at points.  Fuck, what a show.  He couldn’t remember ever being this—this _enraptured_ in his life, not with Roy slowly baring himself _for Ed_ , the colored and black inks of his tattoos slowly revealing themselves, spreading across Roy’s skin with a dance of designs that drew Ed’s attention even more than Roy usually would have: a dragon on his arm, the birds on his chest, that ridiculous Elvish stretching across his hips.

Roy shifted, finally divesting himself of his pants, then leaned down to kiss Ed.

Ed gasped at that, fumbling to yank his own pants off and barely managing to do so, with how much his fingers shook.  With anticipation. _Anticipation._ Roy eventually reached up to help, settling his hands over Ed’s, and Ed’s stilled.

Roy scooted back, kissing at the exposed skin of Ed’s abdomen, sending shivers through him, then looked up at Ed for silent permission…

Ed nodded jerkily, chest heaving.

Roy slid them down slowly, freeing Ed’s cock with a relief that left Ed shaking, then kissed gently at each of Ed’s hips.  After his tongue left a slow, torturous trail around the bones of each, he pulled back, sitting up, and popping the cap off the lube.

Ed felt his jaw go slack as he watched Roy spread his legs, slide a finger inside.  His eyes raked up the lines of Roy’s neck, devouring the way they tensed and strained as Roy gasped, thrusting gently, the way his muscled chest bunched with effort as he added a second finger.  Fuck, the curve Roy made as he arched back, gripping Ed’s thigh for leverage, was going to fucking _kill_ him.

Ed reached out, awestruck, fingers tracing down Roy’s tattoos, and Roy just shot him a devilish smirk from underneath that perfect, gorgeous hair. Ed caught on: Roy very much liked having his tattoos appreciated, so Ed damn well _appreciated_ them.  In a very tactile fashion.

Roy’s breath hitched, his hips jerking forward harder.  More seriously.  It wasn’t just a show anymore, and Ed could tell.  Ed’s eyes didn’t leave the glorious sight, and he reached out in front of him, gripping Roy’s cock and dragging his hand up, slowly, in plain sight for Roy to see.

He felt Roy’s groan rumble through him at that, long and low, saw Roy’s eyes fixed on the movement, eyes wide, as Ed moved his hand slowly, jerking him off.

But Roy’s hand darted out, grabbing Ed’s wrist.

“God, please stop,” he gasped, eyes wide.  “I’d like to come with you inside me.”

Ed’s fingers went weak at that, and despite his arousal, despite having more control of a sexual situation than he’d ever had before, he gaped up at Roy.  He had never fucked anyone before.  Ever.

Roy leaned down for a moment, glorious shoulder muscles shifting, and kissed Ed slowly, tongue flicking out with a tantalizing tease.  “Are you ready?”

Ed nodded, still too awed to say anything else.

Roy reached down, rolling the condom onto Ed’s cock.  A new, weird sensation; he hadn’t ever done any fucking, so he’d never worn one.

But all thoughts of that vanished when Roy sunk down onto him, bliss in every line of his body and face.

Ed made a strangled noise, gripping Roy’s hips.  “Holy shit,” he gasped, trying to gather his mind enough to appreciate the mind-blowing fucking _pleasure_ coursing through him.  Roy only groaned, jerking forward slightly when Ed gripped tighter, then finally settled all the way in.

The sight above him, a goddamn _holy_ one, left Ed only able to watch, eyes wide.  He wanted to move, wanted to touch, wanted to do _something_ , but all he could do was hold Roy reverently, trembling like a taut string, waiting, wanting, unsure how to express his adoration and worship enough in a way that would be understood.

“You okay?” Roy panted, still paused.

“Y-yeah—“

“Talk to me,” Roy groaned, then squeezed, and Ed saw fucking _white._

“Holy shit!” he yelped, almost screamed, and Roy just panted.

And then, of course, he started to fucking move.  “God, Ed.  It’s been so long since I’ve done this.  You feel amazing.”

The words rushed over him, and Ed was hard pressed to figure out if the pleasure was coming from them or coming from the fucking amazing, fantastic, overwhelming sensations of Roy moving around him.  “I—I’ve never—“ he gasped, rolling his hips upwards, and Roy groaned.

“You’ve never what, love?”

“Done… this—“

“Fucked someone?”  The sudden filth from Roy’s mouth left little stars bursting through Ed’s vision, and Roy moved again, throwing his head back.  “Now you know why people kill for this.”  He angled himself slightly, then let out a low groan.  Ed felt it in his cock, his balls, and whimpered a little.  “God, you’re fucking fantastic inside me.”  Ed gripped his hips tighter, and Roy gasped, starting to fuck himself harder.  “Feel good?”

Ed nodded frantically, still unable to speak.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Ed,” Roy gasped out.

Tell?   _Tell?_  How the fuck was he supposed to talk when—  “I want—“  He let out a gargled groan and closed his eyes, arching into Roy when Roy came down.  “I want you to fucking ride me!” he choked.

Roy laughed above him, breathless and wild.  “As you wish.”

“Shit!” Ed yelped as Roy sped up, clinging for dear life, and then Roy did that—that fucking _squeezing_ thing again, and now Ed knew why his clients had gone fucking _wild_ for it.  He could feel Roy’s thighs beginning to shake with effort, and the knowledge that _he_ was doing this to Roy, that it was all because _he_ was inside him, left the room fucking spinning.

“Shit—Holy shit—Roy—Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—“

Roy just continued to ride, confident and assured, fucking himself on Ed like they were the only two people left in the world.

And right when Ed had turned into a shaking, whimpering, quivering mess, Roy said it.  He said the fucking thing.

“I’m going to come soon, Angel.”

Fuck soon; Ed did _now_ , crying out with a yelp and a scream, arching into that fucking amazing, unbelievable tight warmth, the release crashing over him—

And Roy bounced once more, swiveled his hips, and came all over Ed.

They stayed like that for a moment, taut and frozen, and then like puppets whose strings had been cut, they both collapsed, Roy rolling to Ed’s side, panting.

After a few moments, he was the first one to get words out.

“I’m going to feel that tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to it.”

Ed… Ed should probably say something too.  He cast about for something, something half as witty as Roy’s words had been, some way to tell him how fucking _fantastic_ he was…

“Holy shit,” he gasped, voice hoarse.

Roy chuckled, rolling over to nuzzle into Ed’s neck.  “You enjoyed yourself, I hope?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Roy pressed in more, wrapping his arms around Ed.  “God, I missed you.”

With a huff, Ed turned as well, burying his face in Roy’s chest.  “Can I just stay here,” he mumbled, knowing what the answer was going to be.

“I would love it if you could,” Roy sighed.

“Well, get your buddy’s henchman off my back and maybe I’ll be able to sneak out,” Ed muttered, scowling.

Roy chuckled softly.  “Henchman?  I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear that one.”  But he did squeeze Ed.  “You need to stick it out, love.”

Ed just grumbled incoherently into Roy’s chest.  Man, fuck this.  He could deal now.

“I don’t want you to go back, either.”

“I’m clean!” Ed whined.  “I’ve been clean!”

“I know.  But this program…”  Roy sighed.  “If it shows you complete it, it’ll look better on a résumé than stopping midway.”

Ed yanked back, panic slicing right through his post-coital bliss.  “I have to put it on my _résumé?_  No one’s gonna want to hire some former drugged out hooker!”

Roy reached up to pet Ed’s hair, to tug him back.  “It was a metaphor.  I’m sorry.  You don’t have to, but if it comes up, talking about how you finished rehab is much better than saying you left.”

“I’m finished enough,” Ed muttered, pressing his cheek against Roy’s chest.

“I know.  But you do have to go back.”

Ed just sighed, closing his eyes and pressing his face harder into Roy’s chest, trying to block it all out.


	28. Chapter 28

Roy enjoyed the time they had together, short as it was.

He slipped out of bed first, retrieving Ed’s presents when fixed with that plaintive look, and showed off a bit when he walked back in, naked, to a fully-clothed Ed.  To see Ed ogle, to see him allowed to _want_ , and to give Ed what he wanted, always sent a thrill of pleasure through Roy, to give him these choices when he had been so stripped of them before this.

But Ed’s excitement at his computer, his phone, faded eventually, and after a long, romantic dinner that Ed would have called “disgustingly sappy,” they did have to go back.

Ed watched the clinic with dread as Roy parked, and Roy couldn’t say that he was too happy, either.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” Roy murmured, kissing Ed’s temple, trying to at least to put on a brave face for Ed.  “But it’s only for a little bit longer.”

“I know.”  Ed sighed, then turned to glare at the clinic.  Roy could see his profile, then, sharp and fierce, lit by the sun and all the more golden for it.  It left a twist in Roy’s heart.  Not just because he had to say goodbye to the most wonderful, amazing, beautiful, strong person he had ever known, not just because they would be apart for who knew how long, but because Ed was _here_ , he had made it through so much, and he was still standing, staring down whatever life threw at him with his fierceness and determination.

“Walk me in?”

Roy got out, opened the door, offered his arm, and while Ed initially took it, he quickly slid his hand to take Roy’s, squeezing it tightly as they walked through the doors.

It killed him to see Ed so down, to see him look towards the back of the clinic, knowing that they had to be separated soon.  Roy squeezed back, not caring that his fingers were starting to go numb, lagging back a bit despite himself.

They wandered into the visitor’s room, where a few people still sat, saying goodbye or stealing a little longer.  Ling and Lan Fan sat in a corner, heads together, oblivious to the rest of the world.

But rules were rules, and if Marcoh found out that they had broken them, well, Roy didn’t want even more time between visits.

He wrapped Ed in his arms and whispered, “Merry Christmas.  I love you.”

Ed squeezed back, nodded, then stepped back, turning to watch everyone else.  Ling and Lan Fan finally looked up, Ling offering Ed a wave, and Lan Fan peering around until she spotted Roy.  She kissed Ling briefly, squeezed his hand, then walked over in Roy’s direction.

Roy glanced over his shoulder to see if she was aiming for someone else, but no, no one was behind him.  When he turned back, she had stopped a few feet away.

“You’re Roy, right?  Ed’s boyfriend?”  She looked anxious as she asked the question, glancing around, not meeting Roy’s eyes, as if she were afraid he would react badly.

“That’s me.”  Roy smiled at her, as graciously as he could, doing his best to put her at ease.

“Do you…”  She hesitated.  “Do you have a moment?  If not, that’s fine, but Ling told me about you and Ed and I just wanted to…”  She glanced over her shoulder.  “I’d like to speak somewhere private, if you don’t mind.  It’s nothing bad!” she finished, a little frantically.

Roy wondered to himself how someone as shy as her and someone as rambunctious as Ling had gotten together.  That could only be an interesting story.  His smile widened, and he motioned out towards the entrance, leading her away.

“If you’re here to ask me about a threesome, I’m afraid Ling’s already tried,” he joked, trying to bring some humor into the situation.  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“He’s told me he’s working on it,” she replied, so prim and quiet and pleasant that Roy had to do a double take before he realized she was joking.  Possibly?  But there was a glint of humor in her eyes nonetheless.

“Talk Ed around and I’ll consider it,” he teased back, highly doubtful that would ever happen.  “And we should probably get to know each other, first.”

“You’re right.”  She stopped as they reached an isolated area outside, turning to face him.  She did look pleasant, he thought, and shy, but her fashion sense resembled Ed’s, in a weird way.  Blacks and reds, fishnet hose below her skirt, and skull earrings dangling from a set of lobe piercings that were only two of many decorating her ears, and one ring on her left lower lip.  She stuck her arm out.  “I’m Lan Fan, Ling is my boyfriend, we do the poly thing, it’s awesome, and I know what it’s like being with an HIV positive partner.”

Oh.  Well, that might explain why she and Ling were—hold up, _what?_

At Roy’s look of surprise, the way he froze when shaking her hand, she smiled a little wryly, then ducked her head, the shyness returning.  “Ling… told me, about Ed.  And I haven’t met him, really, even though I want to, but we’ve had our own issues over it.  Not that I’m saying you’re going to, or that you’ll have the same problems, even, but I just thought you might want to talk about it.”

Roy stilled.  Ling was… HIV positive?  His first thought was one—one of jealousy.  Ling understood this, he could talk Ed through it, whereas Roy would never—

It was those thoughts that had him clearing his throat and nodding.  “Yes.  I think it might be a good idea to do that.”

—

“As long as his viral load is undetectable, the chances of getting it are pretty damn low.  Not impossible, but it's not as likely as you might think."

Roy listened intently, not taking notes, but mentally keeping track of every word.

“It can be hard,” Lan Fan murmured, staring down at her fingerless gloves encircling her matcha latte, pressed against it to keep them warm.  Roy sipped at his own coffee, watching her carefully.  She hadn’t pulled any punches, laying out the details of what Ed would need, treatment-wise, and how to make sure that he kept at it.  “All of that, knowing that his health can go at any minute, or that one slip-up and you’ve got it, too.”  She swallowed, squeezing a little tighter.  “You usually get used to it, but then sometimes—I don’t know, a cold, or he’ll cut himself when flossing…”  She shook her head.  “It’s not so much that I think you’ll panic.  Stuff like that, it happens.  But I know it can send Ling into this—god, believe it or not, he’s the worst brooder.”  At Roy’s disbelieving stare, she laughed a little.  “Right?  You wouldn’t think it to look at him.  But try not to panic, if you can manage that, and treat it as normal.  From what I’ve heard of Ed, he seems a little…”

“Overreactive?”

Lan Fan smiled up at Roy faintly.  “I was going to say ‘high-strung.’  Just try hard not to let him talk himself into that funk, and if he does, make sure he _knows_ you’ll be there.”

“Shouldn’t I be taking this for granted?” Roy asked, gently teasing.  “It seems like the sort of thing any partner should do.”

She lifted her head.  “You’d think so, right?  But in support groups—which can help, really, if they’re your thing—you’d be surprised how often it gets missed.  And even when you’re keeping an eye out, it can slip.”

Roy nodded intently.  “Thank you for this.  I suppose I figured that there would be something like this to watch out for, but it helps to hear.”

“And…”  She sighed, drumming her fingers on the sides of the cup.  “Don’t let him push you away.  It might not ever be an issue—I’ve met couples where it wasn’t—but I see it enough that I wanted to warn you, so it wouldn’t be a surprise.  It can become a ‘thing,’ honestly, when one of you has it and the other doesn’t.  I’ve seen some people—I’ve seen _Ling_ , even, get angry and frustrated that I don’t ‘get it,’ or whatever.  But make sure he knows that you don’t have to know exactly what he’s going through.  That you can be there regardless.”  She glanced up again, raising an eyebrow.  “Don’t let him walk all over you, of course.  Call him out when he’s a dick.  God knows I have to.  But be ready, just in case you have to.”  She hesitated, looking as if she wanted to say something, then nodded.  “And right now, you need to make sure you’re honest with him.  Don’t hide it, if it’s an issue, and surprise him later.  It isn’t going to change, and make sure you’re ready for him.”

“I know it won’t,” Roy said fervently.  “I’ve researched.  I know that communication is important.  That’s in everything I’ve read.  Ed has something of a hard time, but I want to work on it with him, as much as we can.  If you meet with him, could you mention, or have Ling…?”

She smiled a little wryly.  “I’m on it, don’t worry.  Ling’s really rooting for you guys, you know?  He really loves seeing people in love.  It’s probably some of the reason he’s attached to Ed so quickly.”

Roy laughed softly at that, thinking back to Ed, to what that must mean Ed was like when _not_ around him.  “I really appreciate that.”

Her smile turned sweeter, more sincere, even a little shy.  “It’s not a problem.”

Roy smiled back at her.  “Is there anything else?  I’ve been worried…”  He exhaled.  “Ed doesn’t have any money.  Or, he does, but I’m very, very aware that I have all of the financial power in this relationship.  I’m hoping that will change, eventually, but for now, I don’t want him to…”  He looked down at his coffee.  “I’m worried, and I don’t know exactly how to articulate what.”

Lan Fan nodded slowly.  “I think I understand.  You have a very… unequal power balance.”  That wry smile flickered across her face again.  “Funny enough, I’ve been on both sides.  Ling’s diagnosis… it really turned everything on its head, and suddenly _I_ was the one who had the power to… to make him feel unwanted, or undeserving, or…”  She shook her head.  “We’ve worked on it, a lot, but there’s still more to go.  Again, all I can really say is talk, you know?  Don’t let him lose yourself in trying to be what you want because he can’t be—well, because he thinks he can’t be perfect for you.”

Roy nodded seriously.  “Thank you.  I don’t plan on letting him.”

Lan Fan jerked her head up, as if something had just occurred to her.  “Oh yeah!  Are you on PrEP yet?”

Roy leaned back; Maria had mentioned it to him and given indication that she wanted to discuss it further, but he hadn’t yet followed up on it, too busy ensuring that Ed’s antiretrovirals would be affordable.  “No.  Care to tell me a little more?”

“Well, obviously you should talk to a doctor about it, but it’s just a daily prescription that helps prevent HIV infection.  Not sure if you’ve heard of it.  Obviously it’s not perfect, but neither are condoms, and that way, even if there are little slips, you know you have your backup net.”  She smiled at Roy crookedly.  “It takes the anxiety edge off.  A bit, anyway.”

Roy nodded again.  “I’m already on medication, so I’ll have to see how they interact, but I’ll definitely ask my doctor.”

She tilted her head.  “Which, do you mind my asking?”

He hesitated, but she had been open and honest with him about quite a bit of personal information.  Still…

“SSRIs.”  He chose the more technical term for antidepressants; in his experience, those who knew the term knew the specifics of how depression worked.  Those who only knew them by “antidepressants” were more likely to treat it with dismissiveness.  Not all the time, but enough.

“They work fine with mine.”  She shrugged.  “Again, yeah, ask your doctor, but I’ve never had any issues.”

Roy relaxed a little.  “That’s good to know.  Probably something to work on while Ed’s still in there.”

Lan Fan tilted her cup back to get the last bit of drink, then tossed it neatly into the nearby garbage can.  “Yeah, but I do want to get back and spend a little longer with Ling.  Before visiting hours close.”  She smiled over at Roy a little ruefully.  “Sorry.”

Roy shook his head, smiling back.  “I’m not sure how he got lucky enough to have someone like you, but I understand.  Thank you for talking with me.”

She laughed, flushing a little and looking away—Roy had seen that look before, the look of someone young and desperately in love, had felt it himself.  When she turned back, she blinked at his smile, then hesitated.  He tilted his head, and she scribbled a number on their receipt, pushing it over.  “Call or text if you ever need to talk.  It can help.”  Standing, she picked up her purse.  “And thanks for the drink!”


	29. Chapter 29

“Your girlfriend is awesome,” Ed drawled, flopping back onto the bed.  “I don’t know why the hell she’s dating you.”

Ling peered around the corner of the wall divider.  “She could be dating _you,_ y’know, if you’d only— _ack!_ ”

Ling yelped as Ed chucked one of Roy’s gifts at him—three guesses which—then retreated back around the corner, sulking.  “You’re so cruel to me.”

“Yeah, well, it builds character.”  Ed grimaced at the ceiling, trying to distract himself from Roy’s absence with memories of meeting Lan Fan.  He really, really needed to find out where she had gotten most of her wardrobe; those boots were _awesome_ , and even if they sold skirts there was probably something that was at least unisex…

“Soooo,” Ling sing-songed, peering back around the corner again, then prancing over to sit next to Ed.  “You’ve been in a surprisingly less cranky mood.  Did someone get laid?”

Ed turned his head, raising his eyebrows, but didn’t answer, only smirked very faintly.

Ling, of course, promptly beamed and lifted his hand for a high five.  Ed just turned away, leaving him hanging, smirking at Ling’s indignant noises.

“He brought me food naked.”  Okay, so Ed was preening.  Just a little.

“Sounds like a perfect boyfriend.”  The bed dipped as Ling flopped over as well.  “Does he have a brother?”

Ed turned back to Ling, face falling slowly.  “I… I don’t know.”

“So.”  Ling smirked.  “He brings you naked food, but you don’t know about his family?”

Ed shook his head, jaw tight.  “You realize I’ve spent more time with him high than not, right?  And even more not even knowing his real name.  Fuck.”

Ling lifted his hands.  “Okay, so you haven’t had a heart to heart.  You’ll get the chance.  He obviously cares about you a whole hell of a lot.  He’ll wait ‘til you’re healthy again.”

“Yeah.”  Ed wrapped himself up tighter in his blanket, and Ling rolled up against him, huffing.  Ed tried to push away his feelings of anxiety.  He could be _better_ , when he learned about Roy.  Be his own person.  Build a real relationship instead of just being dead weight.  “We’ve got time.”

That night, though they kept the beds together, Ed wrapped himself in his blanket and drifted off on his own side, sleeping through the entire night without a single nightmare.

—

Ed buried himself in his books.

He was doing extraordinarily better by now; everyone could tell, and Marcoh commended him on his progress.  He spent more time doing his _own_ thing instead of worrying about his addiction, whether that was hanging out with Ling and Rose, studying in preparation for classes, or immersing himself in science.  This, of course, drove them both up the wall.

The weather in Chicago had always been temperamental, and five days after Christmas, Ling dragged Ed outside into the sunshine, Ed’s book in tow, and declared, “If you’re going to sit there and ignore me, we can ignore each other together.”  He then proceeded to do gymnastics all over the lawn.

“I’m not ignoring you!”  And despite his fascination with spaghettification, Ling’s vibrancy distracted Ed to the point of watching with his jaw gaping as Ling did an impressive double backflip.

After running around and in general making an awesome-looking fool of himself, Ling trotted up to Ed, cheeks red, panting cheerfully.  “Wanna learn?”

Ed snorted.  “Don’t think I could.  Got a bum shoulder.”

“How bum?”  Ling flopped next to him.  “You do the fighting good enough.”

“Pimp fucked it up the day I got out.  Fracture, didn’t heal right.  One day, if I can afford surgery, I’ll get it fixed, but…”  He shrugged.

“We can probably work around that, if you wanna practice.”

Ed squinted over at Ling.  “You’d better not turn this into ‘flexible’ jokes.”

“Why would I not do that?  It’s perfect.”  Ed glowered, and Ling grinned unrepentantly.  “It’s a _perfect_ opportunity.”

With a snort, Ed reached over to his left, snatched up a clod of dirt, and chucked it at Ling, who pulled some sort of impressive Jedi mind trick to twist away.  “Hey!”

Ed threw another one, and Ling just backspringed away.  “Let’s try it!”

“I can’t do that!” Ed called after him, chasing Ling for some unknown reason—what a fucking obnoxious friend.

“Sure you can!”  And then Ling was right next to Ed again.  “Here, lemme show you.”

Ed crossed his arms, glaring.

“…Right.  So, let’s start with a backbend, then!”

Gymnastics practice went surprisingly well, with Ed’s shoulder giving him minimal trouble.  Why the fuck did Ling always have to be right about things?  It was just bad for everyone all around.  Ling ended up with an ego boost, and everyone else had to deal with that ego boost.

Still, Ed had to admit to himself as they set up a picnic on the lawn, lazily eating as they chatted away the afternoon, this wasn’t too bad after all.

—

Several days of exercise, sleeping well, and very helpful therapy later, Marcoh made the call.

Ed packed up his things in a flurry, aided by Ling and Rose, and hugged them both tightly with whispered promises to visit.  But he didn’t spend much time there: after saying his goodbyes, he strode to the entrance, earning himself a nod from Scar along the way.

When he pushed open the double doors into the breeze, his heart jumped, a familiar form turned…

Ed ran forward, leaping into Roy’s arms, and Roy picked him up, spinning him around, laughing almost as much as Ed was.

Ed darted forward to kiss Roy fiercely, wrapping around him, and they stood there, heads tilted, tongues tangling eagerly, barely remembering how to breathe.  Ed reached up to bury his fingers in Roy’s hair, and Roy’s hands tightened, pulling Ed closer.  Ed didn’t know if the desperate noises were him, or Roy, or both, or…

“Oh my god,” Ed breathed hoarsely when they finally had to pull apart.  “Oh my god, I’m out—“

Roy beamed back at him for about half a second before pulling him in for another kiss, moaning desperately, Ed laughing against his lips.

“You are,” Roy gasped, mouth stretched in a wider grin than Ed had ever seen.  “And god, I’ve missed you.”

Ed kissed him for a few more moments before Roy set him down, forcibly ending the makeout session, but grabbing Ed’s hand and tugging him to the car.  “So, what would you like to do?”

“Got some weed?”  Ed smirked up at Roy, who rolled his eyes.

“Of course not.  I have some nice, healthy kale chips, though.”

Ed groaned.  “What good is dating a cop if he won’t get you drugs from the lockup?”

“Because he’s a _great_ kisser.”

Ed grumbled as he got in the car, tossing his shit into the backseat and yanking on his seatbelt.  “You’re insufferable.”

“You seem to suffer me just fine.  Besides, you’d better get used to it.  My long, long vacation started today.”

Ed brightened, whirling to beam at Roy.  “That’s right!  How long?”

Roy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, smirking.  “A month and a half.  And we have a new guest at home, too.”

At Ed’s startled look, Roy’s smirk grew.  “I’m done with undercover work.  When I get back, I’ll be permanently assigned to the K9 unit.  You’ll love Kiara.  Everyone does.”

“A dog!”  Ed snorted, shaking his head disbelievingly.  “Christ, Mustang, you really did get one, didn’t you?”

“I think you two will get along.  She’s sweet, even if you’re not.”

Ed sighed, grimacing, but really, the thought of owning a dog with Roy, even a police dog, it made him feel so… domestic, in a way that he never realized he had wanted.  Like he was starting a life.  A real life.  Maybe he’d talk to Roy about a cat, too…

“Just as long as she doesn’t take up my time with you!”

Roy chuckled.  “Not at all.  I have everything planned.  Your community college classes start soon, but they shouldn’t take up the entire day, and, well, I’m sure we can think of plenty of mischief to get up to…”

Ed flopped back, grinning despite himself at the thought of school, at the thought of beginnings.  Application results came out in the end of March, too, so only a couple more months…

More important things first, though.

“Food?  Fuck, I’m _starving._ ”

Roy leaned over and kissed his cheek, lips lingering.  “From where?”

Ed flopped back, a smirk playing on his lips, staring at the road ahead of them.  For the first time, it seemed to be full of possibilities, full of potential.  Full of hope.

“I want some fuckin’ pizza.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Three Months Later**

Ed stared down at the letter in his hand, his grin fading.

“What is it?”  Ling tried to peer around and catch a glimpse from the ever familiar couch in the rehab’s visitor room.  “C’mon, I showed you mine, now you show me yours.  If I got into drama school, obviously you’ve…”  He paused, catching sight of Ed’s drawn face.  “What?”

Ed turned it around, finally, letting Ling read, watching his eyes widen.

Ling jerked his head up, beaming at Ed.  “Holy shit, dude, that’s amazing!”

“It’s on the opposite coast,” Ed said quietly, glancing down again at the letter.

“Yeah?”  Ling tilted his head, then grimaced.  “Oh.  Roy.”

“Well, and you guys.”  Ed rubbed at his face, sighing.

Ling reached out to take Ed’s wrist.  “You’re going to be great.  You can’t turn down an opportunity like this.  Roy will understand.”

“Four years, though.”  Ed turned to stare out the window, voice distant.  “What if he breaks up with me?  I don’t know if I can…”

“Then I’ll just have to date you.”

Ed glared at Ling, elbowing him.  “Maybe your girlfriend, but not you.”

Ling grinned insincerely, but it quickly faded to something more serious.  “But he’ll understand.  I promise.  He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, but… _four years._ ”

“Then ask him to move out there with you.”

Ed let out a bark of laughter at the very _thought._  “I can’t even begin to explain how much I can’t do that.”

“You could at least give him a reason.  It sounds pretty reasonable.”

Ed shook his head.  “He has a career here!  It’s a big deal!  He has a house and a _dog!_ ”

“But he might move with you.  All you can do is ask.”

Ed flopped back on the couch.  “But I don’t want him to.”

“Then what are your other options?”

“Deal with it for four years?” Ed muttered miserably.  “Or invent a teleporter.”

“That would suck so much, though,” Ling mused, and Ed glared.

“I am aware.”

Ling flopped back next to him.  “Ask him, then.  Just tentatively.  See how he feels.”

Ed groaned, rubbing at his eyes with his palms.  “I guess.  You guys… you will keep in touch, right?”

“Of course.”  Ling grinned over at him.  “Out in a week!  I expect you to come to my shows!”

Ed cracked a smile.  It was impossible to stay miserable with Ling around.  Pissed, maybe, but not miserable.  “I expect you to make it big.”

“Can I be anything but?”  Ling laughed to himself, but there was a little bit of sadness in it.  “I’ll invite you to my shows, of course.  Until I get a girlfriend.  Then you’re on your own.”

Ed glanced over in surprise.  “But… but Lan Fan…?”

Ling laughed again, and Ed didn’t miss the edge.  “You think she’ll want me after all this?  She stayed in school.  She’ll have a job before long—hell, I think she’ll end up running my dad’s company, more or less.  She just hasn’t broken up with me while I’m in rehab because— _ow!_ ”

While Ed’s smacks at Ling were generally playful, this one was _not._  He thought back to the conversations he had had with her, sipping on hot chocolate late into the evenings in Roy’s living room when studying got to be too much.  He thought of the way they traded style tips, laughing and joking, or talked about awesome movies, but how the conversation invariably circled back to some form of wistful, ‘When Ling gets out.’  He thought of the look on Lan Fan’s face when she watched Ling, when he couldn’t see her, the yearning, the hope, the near-desperation.  He knew that expression, and he knew now, more than ever, that Ling was an _idiot._

“She hasn’t broken up with you because she doesn’t _want_ to, you moron!” Ed snapped.  “Jesus, you two have made it through all of this shit and you think that you coming out clean is gonna _end_ you!  You’re stupider than I thought!”

“Ed, you don’t—“

“Yes, I do!  She’s been with you through all of this, and you’re doing her a goddamn disservice to think she’s gonna leave now!”

Ling blinked at him in alarm, and the silence in the room stretched between them.  Ed continued to glare.  He wasn’t going to let this one go.

Ling finally leaned back onto the arm of the couch, mouth twisting into a wry smile.  “You just don’t wanna be my plus one forever.”

Ed snorted.  “Hell no I don’t.  And besides, isn’t that discriminatory against polyamorous relationships?”

“Is that a yes to a foursome?”

“Will you ever stop with that shit?”  But Ed smiled crookedly.

“I remain eternally optimistic.”

“Try eternally obtuse.”

Ling rolled his eyes, lifting his chin loftily, pretending he was above all of this bickering shit.  Yeah fucking _right._  “Whatever.  You’ll come, though, right?  If I invite you to a show?”

Ed blinked.  “Huh?”  Hadn’t that been obvious?  “Yeah, of course.”

Ling beamed at him, and even though it was subtle, Ed could see the difference between him now and all those months ago, a weight lifted from his shoulders.  “Thanks, man.”

Ed just grinned back.  “Of course.”

—

Ed looked up when Roy walked in the door.  The expression on his face must have been something awful, because within moments, Roy had crossed the room and knelt in front of Ed, taking his hand.  “What’s the matter, Angel?”

Ed swallowed, glancing down at the two letters next to him.  One for the University of Chicago, the other…

Chicago was an excellent university.  No denying that.  One of the top in the country.  But…

Dreams died hard.

He picked up the other letter.

As he handed it to Roy, he watched carefully for any sign of displeasure or disappointment.  Any of that, and he could always just grab—  But no.  He swallowed.  He was doing this.  “I got in,” he said quietly.

Roy’s face split into a grin.  “To where?”

Ed snorted.  “Everywhere,” he answered wryly, pointing at the pile of letters on the other side of him.  MIT, Harvard…

When Roy picked them up, Ed thought he might as well have handed him baby Jesus.

“This is—“   Roy laughed breathlessly.  “Ed, this is _amazing._  Wow!”  The excited grin that stretched across his face left Ed feeling marginally better.

“You think so?”  Ed smiled back, tentatively.  Maybe this _would_ go well.

“Of course!  God, how are you going to pick?”

Ed touched the letter in Roy’s hand, looking up at him hesitantly, and waited.

“Stanford, huh?”  Roy glanced up.  “Over MIT?”

Ed nodded, watching Roy carefully, hitching up his shoulder, just a little…

“That’s amazing,” Roy breathed, tugging him in to kiss him, long and sweet.  “You’re amazing.”

Ed swallowed.  “But it’s… far.”

“But you want to go.”

Ed swallowed, mind racing, then he nodded intensely, watching Roy with pleading eyes.

Roy beamed.  “Then it won’t be a problem!”  He tugged Ed in, squeezing him tightly.  “Why do you look so nervous?”

“Because it’s… far.  Are you really just okay with this?”  A buzzing noise sounded in Ed’s ears, uncertainty, shock, and… hope?

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  Roy chuckled softly.  “You’re getting your life back on track, and that’s something to celebrate.”  He reached out to tuck some hair behind Ed’s ear, expression going wistful, but he still smiled.  “It is far, and I will miss you terribly, but that’s no excuse for me to hinder your goals.”

Ed sat bolt upright, horrified.  Roy thought he was—  “You’re not a hindrance!” he blurted.

Roy tilted his head, clearly confused by his outburst.  “All right?”

Ed swallowed, looking down at his hands.  That Roy could think, after everything he had done for Ed, that he was in the _way._  “You’re not.”

“This is what you wanted to do, Ed.  Years ago.  Before you met me.  I don’t care if you go to the moon, so long as you’re finally doing what you want.”

“Yeah.”  Ed tugged back the Stanford letter, looking down at it, and Roy slipped his hand into Ed’s.  “I guess I’m just… freakin’ out about bein’ alone again.  If anyone is a hindrance, I am.”

“What do you think would help?”

Ed snorted.  “I have no idea.  Not being so pathetic, probably.”

“You’re not pathetic.”  Roy squeezed Ed’s hand.  “You’ve been through a traumatic experience, and there’s nothing wrong with having some lasting problems from that.  We’ve had this discussion.”

“I had to—“  Ed sighs, aggravation surging through him at his own goddamn incompetence.  “I’ve gotten through everything.  I should be better.  I _want_ to be better already.  I don’t want this to fucking _bug_ me anymore!”

“It’ll take time, Angel,” Roy murmured.  “And I’ll be here for you, whether it’s over Skype or in person or whatever it is you choose.”

“You won’t break up with me?” Ed mumbled, knowing that wasn’t helping his ‘pathetic’ image, but right now, he needed the reassurance.

“What?  No!”

Ed nodded, looking down.  “Okay.”

“Did you think I would?”  The puzzlement in Roy’s voice helped even more than his earlier vehemence; it meant that he had never even considered it an _option_.

“Wasn’t sure.  I—“  Ed sighed, exasperated, but not at Roy—at his own inability to understand.  “I don’t even know why you’re dating me in the first place, Roy.”

“Because I love you,” Roy said simply, and even though Ed knew it could easily be lip service, that they were ‘just words’ that anyone could say, he _knew_ Roy.  And Roy wouldn’t—he _couldn’t_ say those things, not like that, and not mean it.  Ed reddened a little, looking away, but he had to fight a smile.

Roy leaned in, kissing his temple.  “I won’t leave you.  I promise.”

Ed sighed, flopping over into Roy’s lap, and Roy reached out to run his fingers through Ed’s hair.

“So.  You’re going to Stanford.”  Roy laughed a little.  “That’s amazing.”

“I got a scholarship, too!” Ed cut in quickly.  “So you don’t have to pay!”

Roy was quiet for a few moment, just long enough for Ed to start to worry, but then he spoke.  “I wouldn’t have minded, but you are simply astounding, Ed.”

Ed turned to hide his face in Roy’s lap.  He didn’t want Roy to see how red he was, or how big his grin.

“You need to learn to hear it.  I’ll be saying it a lot.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Ed—Ed fucking giggled.  Oh god.  He had _giggled._

“Well, if the only trait that’s left after you’ve taken the good ones is ridiculous, I will gladly be considered so.”

“Please!  God, stop!”  But Ed was still giggling, too giddy with relief, and excitement, and _love_ to even consider stopping.

“I only speak the truth where my heart is concerned, Ed.”

“Oh my god.  You’re so fuckin’ corny.”

“Yes, but would you have me any other way?”

Ed finally pulled his head back, looking up at Roy.  “On your office desk, maybe.”

Roy smiled ruefully down at him.  “I have windows in my office.”

“And no curtains?”

“None worth writing home about.”

Ed sighed, rolling his eyes, and turned, pressing back into Roy’s stomach, facing away, considering his next words.

“You wanna come to Stanford with me?”

Roy paused again.  This time, it _was_ long enough to make Ed uncomfortable, and longer besides.  “Would you stay out there?  After you’re done with school?”

Ed shifted.  “I dunno.  I mean, I also wanna get my PhD, and…”  He shook his head.  “But I mean, I was reading, and apparently their force has been restructuring…”

“What were you reading?”  Roy sounded genuinely interested, which was a good sign.

Ed cleared his throat, then started into the fruits of his research: a search for police with experience in larger cities, more major crimes, a possible opening in the K9 unit, everything he had carefully put together, in the hopes that Roy might consider it.  Just maybe.

“Hmm.”  Roy listened politely, but his response was just that: polite.  “I suppose I could look into a transfer.”

But Ed could hear how reluctant Roy sounded.  “Never mind,” he said quickly, then laughed.  “I was just kidding, anyway.”

Roy looked over at Ed.  “No, you weren’t,” he said, voice quiet, then thought for a moment.  “I want to be with you.  I do.  I… this will sound selfish, but I’ve built a life here, and that’s something I never thought I would have.”

The words drilled into Ed’s chest with a dual sensation of disappointment and relief.  Disappointment, yes, that Roy wouldn’t be coming, but relief as well, that he didn’t blame Ed for asking, and that he had told Ed _no._  It was strange, but hearing that Roy would deny him, or at least tell him that he didn’t want to do something...

Ed suddenly felt like much less of a burden, and now he _knew_ he could trust Roy to treat this relationship as one between equals.

“That’s okay.”  Ed swallowed.  Despite the relief, the sting of disappointment remained.  “Seriously.  I was gonna come back anyway.”  He smiled up at Roy, and Roy looked back down.

“I would…  God, I would in a heartbeat if you ask.”

But Ed heard the unspoken plea in his voice.

“I’m not asking,” Ed murmured softly, and Roy shifted, pulling Ed up to cuddle him.

After some time of quiet, of holding Ed, Roy sighed.  “Just let me know if you find some hot scientist boy.  I’ll fight him for you,” he teased.  Slightly.  “If you want to be fought over.”

“You could take Ling,” Ed replied airily.

Roy snorted.  “Please.  I could shoot him from three blocks away and still win a sexual harassment suit.”

“True.  Maybe I should fight him for you, then.”

“Yes,” Roy drawled, voice dry.  “How will I ever hide my torrid love affair with your best friend.”  But he smiled.  “When’s he getting out, anyway?  I miss him.”

“Next week!” Ed declared proudly.  “He got into his school, too!”

“That is amazing.  I wish him the best.”  He thought for a moment.  “Maybe I’ll bake him a cake.”

“He’d like that.  Just make sure it doesn’t have any white icing,” Ed muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Because,” Ed continued patiently.  “Everything he says turns into an innuendo.”

“Right.”  Roy barked out with laughter.  “He needs to get laid.”

Ed turned to squint at Roy.  “Haven’t you been talking with Lan Fan a lot?  I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.  Yeah, you might not see them around each other, but shit, Roy—“

Roy’s hands darted out to cover Ed’s mouth.  “All right, all right!  I surrender!  I don’t want to hear about it anymore!”

Laughing, Ed curled into Roy, who pulled him tighter.  The twinges of sadness aside, everything… was surprisingly okay.

—

“So,” Ed murmured, fingers tracing up Roy’s chest after an evening of sex.  “Does this mean I get to interrogate you now?”

“Well, I don’t have my handcuffs on me, but…”

Ed reached over to swat at Roy’s side lightly.  “Please.  The mysterious stranger thing, it’s just getting a little old.  I know you’ve been busy with a lot of shit, but it’s been _months._  I wanna _know_ about you, and I’m tired of you avoiding it.”

Roy chuckled, nuzzling into Ed’s hair.  “I’d hardly say we’re strangers.”

“But I don’t know anything about you.”  Ed pulled back, watching him.  “I didn’t even know you were overseas until ages after I met you!”

“Okay.  Ask questions, then.”

Ed lifted his chin, propping it on Roy’s shoulder.  “How about your life’s story?”

Roy chuckled, a groan behind it.  “Oh, god.  Anything specific?”

Ed scooted a little closer.  “Were you really raised in a brothel?”

“Yes.  My foster mother ran it.”  He tilted his head.  “I grew up around sex workers.  She treated them well, and always made sure that her workers wanted to be there.  But I would see them get mistreated, sometimes, even by the people who should be protecting them.  That’s why I joined the force.  To fight for those who the law tends to overlook.”

Fuck.  Why was it that every single goddamn word that came out of Roy’s mouth just made him _more_ fucking perfect?  Ed just shook his head.  “Foster mother?”

“Yeah, Chris.  My mother, whoever she was, couldn’t take care of me.  I think my dad ended up dying, because Chris is his sister.  But I never really cared to find out who my birth parents were, because Chris was all I needed.  She did run a brothel, so it wasn’t always the most secure childhood, but she took care of me.”  He snorted.  “I did have a customer try to attack me, once, when I was about ten.  I don’t know if he made it home alive.  Somehow I doubt it.”

Ed bristled with fury at the thought.  “ _Attacked?_  Like…”

“Yeah.”  Roy sighed, petting Ed’s hair.  “It was scary, because he was big, but I was a kid.  I didn’t quite understand what could have happened at the time.  I wasn’t supposed to be there, anyway, but Chris made sure it didn’t go badly.  But that’s the reason consent is so important to me.  It was always a huge thing for them.”

Ed sighed.  “Wish I could’ve ended up in a place like that.  Would’ve been way less awful.”

“She ran a tight ship, that’s for sure.  She tried, too, but it wasn’t an especially glamorous childhood.  Riza made it a lot better, though.”

Ed thought back to the woman he had met briefly a few times, the wife of the doctor he had liked so much.  “Why Riza?”

“We were friends in school.  We were both sort of loner outcasts together.  Her dad was rich—did some weather science stuff, I don’t know—and she’d invite me over some nights to work on homework.”  When Ed looked up at Roy, he was smiling fondly, remembering.  “I always appreciated that she never tried to give me anything else, though.  One day someone found out that I was on the free lunch program, and of course, young kids take that and run with it.  But Riza stayed cool.  She could glare Satan to death, I swear.”  He shook his head.  “She’d take me over to her house sometimes, for dinner and homework, but that was it.  She recognized that I was a proud bastard, even then.”

“You?”  Ed smirked.  “Yeah, you can be a bit too proud for your own good.”

Roy shot a Ed a critical look, but didn’t say anything about the matter.  “Any more questions?”

Ed snorted.  “Well, yeah.  What about after that?  You joined the military so they’d pay for school?  How did you meet Maes?  All of that.”

Roy laughed a little.  “Well, believe it or not, I originally wanted to be a lawyer.  But the chances of me being able to go to school, even with financial aid, were slim to none.  Riza was joining the Air Force to be a pilot, so I joined the Army.  I met Maes in basic and we hit it off immediately.

Ed narrowed his eyes.  “I sense a fraternization scandal,” he drawled.

“Oh, I think everyone but us could see it coming from a mile away,” Roy sighed.  “It sucked.  I was head over heels for him, and I confessed the last night of boot camp.  He decided to try it out before we left, even though he’d never been into a guy before.  It kept going overseas.  But then… well, we were separated during an op, and I was MIA, presumed KIA, for months.  He had gotten injured and had been sent back to a hospital in the States, where he fell for a pretty nurse named Gracia.  That much is history.”

“So he thought you were dead and moved on,” Ed grumbled, knowing that his complaint was… unreasonable, at best.

“Yes.”  Roy ruffled Ed’s hair gently.  “He was very excited to hear I was alive, but introduced me to Gracia, so it was all a little strange.”

“Classy of him,” Ed muttered.

“I don’t blame him.”  Roy reached out to take Ed’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it.  “You can’t help who you fall in love with.  And it means I get to be with you.”

“Still shitty.”  But Ed’s voice had no heat in it.  Not with the way Roy was touching him, and not with the words he was saying.

“Well, regardless, I moved on.  Decided that law school wasn’t for me—I preferred investigation.  I graduated with a degree in criminology and applied to the police force.  I was worried about getting accepted, because I had tattoos and all that, and my Madam foster mother would obviously come up in a background check, but it was just my luck that they were looking for an undercover officer.”

“Wait, you got hired to do undercover work?  How long have you been doing this, anyway?”

“I had to train first, with a normal investigative team.  That took about two years.  But I’ve been doing undercover work now for about…”  He hesitated.  “Eight, nine years?”

“Sometimes I forget you’re thirty-four,” Ed muttered, squinting up at him.  “Roy Mazda was a lot younger.”

“Yes, well.  Thank you, I think, if that’s a comment on how young I look.”

“It is,” Ed said absently, then scooted closer to Roy.  “And?”

Roy leaned back a little staring at the ceiling, quiet for a few moments before he continued.

“I don’t know if you remember me telling you, but I have severe depression.  When I was in high school, I tried to kill myself.  Riza saved me.  I tried it twice after I got back, and Maes saved me both times.  It took both of them to convince me to get help for it, and the PTSD, but I’ve been so grateful to them.”  Roy sighed.  “I sometimes think about what I would say, if I went back to talk to myself back in high school.  I was so low back then.  I couldn’t imagine being entrusted with a ballpoint pen, much less a house and a dangerous undercover sting operation.”  He glanced towards Ed, smiling faintly.  “And an amazing boyfriend.  I don’t want to leave because…  Well, I’ve almost died so many times in my life, that now I’m finally here, I can’t help but want to stay.  It might be part suspicion, or part being terrified of change, but I know it’s completely selfish of me.  But here, I wake up in the morning and I feel like I could actually be worth something.  I don’t want to give that feeling up.  And I don’t want to risk not feeling it somewhere else.”

Ed listened, completely silent, the words rolling over him.  At first he felt twinges of guilt, for expecting Roy to give that up for him.  But hard on their heels came determination, a settling resolution to be Roy’s support, to begin looking after him the way Roy had him for all those months.  Ed wasn’t the only one who needed to be watched carefully—in fact, Ed now needed it less than ever.  Even thousands of miles away, Ed would be there, and he would make sure Roy knew it.

“I didn’t know,” Ed said quietly.  “Not that it was that bad.  But I’m glad you told me.  And I’m glad that you’re staying here.”

Roy smiled a little crookedly.  “I’m actually glad you asked.  I’m pretty bad at talking about it.  But you deserve to know.”  Roy took a deep breath.  “I keep the pills in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, a few in my desk at work, and a few in the glove compartment of my car.  If for whatever reason it becomes imperative that you know that.”

Ed listened intently, nodding.  “Got it.  Anything else?”

Roy took a deep breath.  “And… you’ve probably noticed, but I have nightmares.  From the war and… stuff.  I’ve tried not to wake you up, and so far I’ve done well.  But if I do, I’m sorry.  I can’t have sleeping pills in the house.”

Ed knew better than to suggest melatonin.  “I appreciate that.  I don’t want ‘em here, either.”  He bumped his nose against Roy’s shoulder.  “Thank you for telling me.”

Roy chuckled softly.  “You know, I rarely tell anyone.  But I’m glad I told you.”  He ran his hand up and down Ed’s back.  “Do you have another question?”

“I guess…”  Ed tilted his head, looking up at Roy; at his calm, sincere expression; at this wonderful, beautiful, amazing man who had just bared his heart and soul to Ed without even flinching.  Ed’s chest tightened, and with a surge of satisfaction, Ed realized that he had found someone that he could _protect._  “What now?  You just wanna keep on with this?  It makes you happy, right?”

Roy leaned in, kissing him gently, and Ed returned it, sighing with pleasure.  “You make me happier than I could have ever imagined being.”

Ed buried his face in Roy’s chest.  “And you, me.  You know that, right?”

Roy stroked his hand down Ed’s back again, and Ed waited, knowing that he was thinking about… something.

“Would you marry me?” Roy asked quietly, and Ed froze.  Roy continued hurriedly.  “Not today.  Maybe in a few more years, once you feel more on your feet.  But someday, do you think you would want… this, for the rest of our lives?”

Ed tensed, choked, tried to—to think of some way to answer, to— _fuck!_  “I—that—Roy, I—I still haven’t—“ he gasped.

“No, I’m sorry.”  Roy squeezed Ed.  “That was too fast.  I’ve just been… I missed you so much, so I’d been thinking about it.  Forgive me, Ed.  The last thing I want to do is pressure you.”

When Ed pulled back, Roy looked totally distraught, and Ed shook his head.  “No!  Fuck, no, that’s not what I…”  He took a deep breath.  “Just… we’re about to spend at least four years apart.  And it seems like you’re trying to make sure nothing happens.  Like it’s the only thing that’ll keep us together.  And it isn’t.”

“No!”  Roy reached out to take Ed’s hand in both of his, watching him fervently.  “I swear, that’s not what I—but it came across that way, didn’t it?”  Roy sighed watching him a little mournfully.  “That wasn’t a proposal.  I promise.  It was a… I was gauging interest.  In case I wanted to propose someday.”

Ed nodded slowly, scooting back in.  “Okay.  That’s… yeah, that’s better.”  He laughed softly.  “Well, just remember not to spring that shit on me, yeah?”

“Of course, love,” Roy breathed into Ed’s ear, and Ed closed his eyes, relaxing into him.

The question stayed with him, however, even as they lay together, enjoying the quiet, and eventually, Ed did speak up.

“Hey, Roy?”

“Yes, Angel?”

Ed squeezed his hand, lips curving up in a smile.  “I just wanted to let you know.  Someday?  Yeah, I could do this forever.”

“Yeah?” Roy breathed, and at Ed’s affirming nod, he leaned in.

“Yeah.”

When they kissed, long and deep and slow, Ed knew that forever would only be the beginning of enough.


	31. Epilogue

**Three Years Later**

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ it is hot out there.”

Roy watched appreciatively Ed sauntered into the hotel penthouse, chucking his graduation cap in one direction and the gown in the other.  Roy snorted at the sight: of course he had worn leather pants and a dramatic red coat, matching the stole even when it wasn’t visible and torturing himself with heat for some unknown reason.

“Well, now it’s hot in _here_ ,” Roy purred, waiting until Ed turned to shoot him a disbelieving look before looking him up and down appreciatively.  Ed just rolled his eyes, turning away and offering Kiara a friendly hand to sniff and lick before she trotted over to Roy.  As he scratched her ears, earning happy dog groans from the German Shepherd, he shamelessly ogled Ed’s ass.

Leather pants.  What else was he supposed to do?

Ed flopped down on the couch, grumbling to himself.  “Well, now at least I know you won’t mind if I start peeling off every goddamn piece of clothing I’m wearing.  Where the hell does California get off, being this hot before _June?_ ”

“At least it’s consistent,” Roy sighed, thinking back to Chicago’s unruly weather: the day his flight had left, they had predicted _snow_ that evening.  Suffice to say, he was _very_ glad to be on the West Coast, where it had _proper_ summer weather.  Pausing, he tilted his head.  “Wait, does that mean you’re about to start stripping?”

That got him a pillow to the face, and he laughed, pulling it away as Ed kicked off his boots.  “Just gimme a fuckin’ bit to cool off, okay?  Then we can make out or fuck or I can do a striptease for you or something.  You had it way easier; I was in _two layers_ , and on the goddamn stage in front of everyone…”

“Ah, yes, and the microphone wasn’t tall enough, so they had to—“

“You shut your whore mouth!”  Another pillow sailed towards Roy, and he ducked, still laughing.  He flopped onto the small bit of couch that Ed hadn’t taken up with his sprawling.

“Much as I would love to engage in any and all of the above activities, don’t you think that we should at least go say hello to your well-wishers?  All those people, wanting to congratulate Stanford’s valedictorian…”

“Fuck me,” Ed groaned, tossing an arm over his eyes.

“Tonight, darling,” Roy murmured, running a hand up his thigh.  “But it won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah?” Ed muttered disbelievingly, lowering his hand to eye Roy warily as he stood, heading over to the refrigerator.  “Why the hell not?”

“Well.”  Roy set out two glasses, popping open the champagne.  “Your brother will be there, and Winry.  Rose, of course; I hear she has several catering offers already, and if you miss it… well, her wife will be displeased, and that woman is _terrifying._  Ling and Lan Fan are _dying_ to see us, I’m sure.  Oh, and your roommate—“

“ _Fuck_ him,” Ed spat, sitting up to glare.  “Russell can suck my—“

“I was going to _say_ ,” Roy interrupted archly, smirking.  “Wouldn’t you like to rub your valedictorian status in his face?”

Ed paused, watching Roy carefully, then nodded once, relaxing back down onto the couch.  “Damn straight.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Roy murmured, sweeping over to press the champagne glass into Ed’s hand, making sure that Ed had stopped choking with laughter before he released it.  He sat on the couch again, quiet, watching Ed watch the bubbles.

He had never known this kind of pride, never understood how amazing another person’s accomplishments could be.  Ed had accepted a spot into a prestigious doctorate program, and already had several research companies sniffing him out, scouting him for the future.  Roy had seen his grades and his work _himself_ and he still had a hard time believing it—and understanding it, sometimes.  And, perhaps best of all, Roy caught a little bit of pudge on Ed’s stomach when he viewed him from the right angle, peeking out from underneath his shirt.

And, of course, Roy had just closed on a house in the area, which Ed still didn’t know.  Roy couldn’t wait to tell him over dinner that night: over the years, he had come to realize that Chicago was too full of people who wanted to kill him, and of bad memories for Ed.

(Everyone who Roy worked with had threatened to follow, and Roy had already started putting out feelers; his career here was looking, as Ed would say it, promising as fuck.)

“What?”

Roy jerked out of his reverie, blinking at Ed, who stared at him with a funny expression on his face.  “I’m sorry?”

“You were staring.  You looked fucking sappy.”

Roy chuckled softly, eyes crinkling in a smile.  “That’s because I am fucking sappy, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Ed rolled his eyes, then lifted his champagne.  “Did you have a purpose for this or can I chug it?”

“What’s this?”  Roy gasped.  “You’ve developed _restraint_ out here—“

“Not for much fucking longer, which you’ll learn the hard way.”

Roy just smirked, then lifted his glass.  “To you, and to your accomplishments.  Everything you’ve done, and everything you’re going to do.”

Ed cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed, then lifted his own glass.  “And to us.”

Roy locked eyes with Ed, the beautiful gold leaving him breathless, almost dizzy, the way it always had.  After everything, Roy was sure that it always would.

“To us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give a massive thank you to everyone who's followed along while I've posted this, to my readers, and to my artists as well! If you haven't checked out [Uchiha-Umeko's art for this,](http://uchiha-umeko.tumblr.com/post/149624577836/yepyou-guys-know-exactly-what-this-means-i-am) you should because it's amazing, and my other two artists should be posting theirs later today ;) I'll have the links up!
> 
>  
> 
> [If you enjoyed this work, perhaps consider checking out the other fic I did for the Big Bang, a Lan Fan-centric Mulan AU!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7832212/chapters/17879374)


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